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THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 
AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD 
DESTROYED 

AND   OTHER  POEMS 


BY 


FREDERICK  E.   PIERCE 


NEW  HAVEN 

YALE  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 
MCMXI 


COPYRIGHT,  1911 

BY 
YALE  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 


Printed  from  type.    750  copies.    September,  1911. 


Dramatic  and  all  other  rights  reserved 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES 


TO  THE  MOST  PATIENT 

AND  LOVING  OF  ALL  MY  CRITICS 

MY  SISTER  MARY 


255792 


We  take  pleasure  in  acknowledging  the 
courtesy  of  The  Independent,  The  Pacific 
Monthly,  and  The  Yale  Review  for  permission 
to  republish  poems  that  have  previously 
appeared  in  their  pages. 


TO  THE  READER 

Out  of  the  lone  New  England  hills, 

Where  fields  are  rocky  and  hearts  are  stern, 
Where  there's  much  to  suffer  and  much  to  learn, 

And  men  build  visions  no  God  fulfills ; 

Out  of  the  haunted  elms  of  Yale, 

Where  hopes  have  budded  and  friendships  leaved, 
And  the  spirit  in  which  her  sons  believed 

Fired  hero's  effort  and  poet's  tale ; 

Out  of  a  hope  that  perhaps  was  vain; 

Out  of  a  dream  that  he  ne'er  will  rue, — 

Reader,  the  author  speaks  to  you 
In  a  world  of  wonder  and  joy  and  pain. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

To  the  Reader vii 

THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED: 

Prologue 1 

Act  I              3 

Act  II             20 

Act  III 56 

Act  IV           77 

Act  V 109 

OTHER  POEMS: 

Armistice 121 

The  Man-eater          126 

Early  Death        . 127 

Voices  from  Elfland: 

I.     The  Appeal  of  the  Fairies        .       .  129 

II.     The   Stolen   Child 130 

The  Last  Night  of  Capua 133 

The  Coming  of  Peace 136 

Thoughts  on  Opening  Webster's  Diction 
ary 138 

A  Vision  of  Evil       . 141 

Wasted  Seeds .  143 

The  Butterfly 144 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The   Oriole 147 

The   Night-watch 150 

Shakespeare  to  Imogen 153 

Truth 154. 

The  Divine  Comedy  of  To-day       .      .      .  156 

A  Fairy  Story 157 

The  Seacoast  in  Winter 160 

School-girls          161 

The  Eventless  Tragedy 162 

The  Visit  to  the  Old  Farm       .      .      .      .  164 
On     Placing     a     Tombstone     over     My 

Father's  Grave 166 

The  Farewell  to  Reason 169 

The  Corn-buskers 170 

The  Family  Bible 172 


THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 
AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 


PROLOGUE 


THE  EVE  OF  THE  DELUGE 

The  sun  sank  palled  in  dread; 

Birds  hushed,  on  bough; 
"God  is  a  myth/'  men  said, 

As  men  do  now. 
Beneath  the  Eternal's  frown 
Loud  reveled  king  and  clown; 
Blood  flowed  in  field  and  town, 

None  questioned  how. 

The  dripping  chaplet  tied 

The  harlot's  brow; 
Grave  statesmen  planned  and  lied, 

Secure  as  now. 
As  lions,  drowsing,  seem 
To  hunt  in  hungry  dream, 
Purred  the  great  ocean  stream 

Round  cape  and  prow. 


2         THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

Night  came;  no  face  was  pale; 

No  prayer,  no  vow. 
God  stood  behind  the  veil, 

As  He  does  now. 
Strange  tints  the  heaven  tinged, 
Like  light  from  doors  unhinged; 
And  the  wild  panther  cringed, 

And  bird  on  bough. 

Bards  harped  in  halls  impure; 

Slaves  forged  the  plow ; 
Earth  dreamed  she  should  endure 

As  long  as  now. 
Next  morning  swam  the  whale 
O'er  throne  and  altar-rail. 
'Twas  an  old  Hebrew  tale; 

But  read  it,  thou. 


ACT  I. 

TIME.     The  morning  before  the  Deluge. 

PLACE.  A  hill  near  the  ark,  commanding  a  view 
over  the  plain  to  the  east  and  the  city  of  Cain  in  its 
midst. 

[Enter  Noah  and  a  friend.] 

NOAH.     There,  kinsman,  slow,  like  God's  reluc 
tant  wrath, 
Comes  the  last  dawning  of  a  world. 

FRIEND.  'Tis  calm, 

As  mild  as  mercy's  front.    For  men  so  long 
Cherished,  forgiven,  warned,  and  spared  in  vain, 
'Twill  neither  warn  nor  spare. 

NOAH.  Is  Javan  come  ? 

FRIEND.     Last  night  his  horsemen  signaled  from 

the  plain; 
An  hour  will  bring  him. 

NOAH.  Bold  was  he  to  linger 

So  far  from  home  beneath  the  threat  of  Heaven. 

FRIEND.     Sad  news  will  wait  him;  he  loved  Irad 
dearly. 

NOAH.    So  did  we  all.    Alas,  the  boy ! 

[Enter  attendant.] 

ATTENDANT.  My  chief. 

NOAH.     Your  errand,  sir? 


4         THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

ATTENDANT.  An  embassy  from  Nod. 

NOAH.     From  Nod  to-day  !    What  irony  works  in 

heaven 
To  send  them  here  to-day?     What  mission  draws 

them? 

Well,  bring  them  hither.  Will  it  not  seem  uncanny 
To  treat  with  dying  states  on  doomsday  morning? 
FRIEND.     And  hear  them  roar  as  lions  do,  when, 

scratched 
With  poison  darts,  they're  doomed  and  know  it  not. 

[Enter   Tubal-cain  with  a  splendid   retinue.] 

TUBAL.     I  bring  you  greetings  from  the  land  of 

Nod. 
NOAH.     In  the  same  will  and  temper  we  return 

them. 
Wherein  can  Noah  serve  the  sons  of  Cain  ? 

TUBAL.     In  yielding  them  their  own,  too  long 

unclaimed. 

You  hold  a  boy  called  Irad,  one  of  us, 
Ten  moons  detained  as  hostage  here,  a  boy 
Whom  much  we  learned  to  love.     We'd  have  him 

back; 
And  therefore  am  I  come. 

NOAH.  Is  Irad  yours 

Because  Cain's  daughter  bore  him,  Cainite  homes 
Misled  his  years  till  manhood?     Nay,  his  sire 
Was  my  own  brother,  and  his  blood  was  ours. 
Nor  held  we  him  as  hostage ;  his  free  will 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  5 

Made  him  prefer  his  father's  people  here, 
Adopted,  not  detained.    And  would  to  God 
I  had  no  more  to  tell. 

TUBAL.  Ay,  so  you  say. 

Lies  nestle  green  beneath  a  hoary  beard 
Like  wheat  beneath  a  snowdrift.     Bring  him  here; 
And  see  if,  when  the  road  lies  open  plain 
To  Nod,  he'll  feel  adopted. 

NOAH.  Not  so  fast. 

Love  held  him  here  with  golden  threads ;  now  here 
Will  j  ustice  chain  him.    Dread  has  been  the  fruit 
Of  your  ill  schooling  and  his  mother's  blood. 
The  curse  of  Cain  has  found  his  child  through  you. 
Enoch,  my  kin,  is  dead  by  him  you  seek. 

TUBAL.     Yea,  so  we  heard  and  therefore  came. 

What  then? 

Revenge  is  for  the  strong  and  not  for  you. 
Yield  up  the  boy;  or,  by  the  serpent's  head 
That  lost  us  Eden,  to-morrow  you  shall  hear 
Our  Cainite  javelins  rattling  through  your  tents. 
A  dreadful  day  'twill  be. 

NOAH.  Dreadful  indeed. 

Thou  canst  not  dream  what  little  cause  have  I 
To  fear  thy  wrath  to-morrow,  nor  what  Arm 
Shall  be  my  proxy  working  death  on  thee. 
Vaunt  on ;  I  dread  thee  not. 

TUBAL.  Then  hark  again. 

My  horsemen  hold  a  captive  down  below, 
Your  youngest  son,  your  Javan,  taken  but  now, 


6         THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

Surety  for  Irad's  life.     To-morrow's  sun, 
If  it  see  Irad  on  these  hills  with  you, 
Sees  Javan  down  with  us. 

NOAH.  To-morrow's  sun 

See  Javan  there !    Eternal  God  forbid ! 

TUBAL.     Or  him  or  Irad ;  choose. 

NOAH.  Bring  Irad  hither. 

[Exit  attendant.] 

FRIEND.     Droop  not;  God  works  in  this.     Per 
chance  last  night 
We  judged  too  gently;  blood  demandeth  blood. 

NOAH.     Let  him  not  die  red-handed !     Lord  of 

Nod, 

How  say  you  if  the  boy  refuse  to  go, 
Of  his  own  choice  remain? 

TUBAL.  In  dreams  I  see  him. 

NOAH.    But  if  he  do,  shall  Javan  then  be  free  ? 

TUBAL.     If  he  do  this,  or  if  the  burning  stars 
Turn  dancing  eastward,  then,  and  not  before, 
Shall  you  keep  both. 

FRIEND.  Knew  he  what  comes  to-morrow 

He  then  were  safe. 

NOAH.  He  knows  not,  yet  may  stay. 

Let  God  inspire  his  answer,  God  decide. 

[Enter  Irad.] 

Irad,  the  people  of  the  plains  demand  you; 
We'd  keep  you  still.     Here  part  the  ways:  with 
them 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  7 

The  false,  bright  glamour  glittering  o'er  decay 
Which  here  you  learned  to  loathe;  with  us  long 

years 

Of  penance  hard  and  durance,  but  they  form 
Repentant  stairs  to  God.     Though  jailers  we, 
Yet  friends  we  are  to  save  you  from  yourself. 
Make  public  choice  between  us. 

TUBAL.  Choose,  boy,  choose. 

We'll   back   your   choice   up  with   our   bones    and 

brawn ; 
And  here's  my  valid  signet.     (Drawing  his  sword.) 

Lad,  you're  pale. 
They  give  you  watery  diet. 

IRAD.  No,  I'm  well, 

And  glad  to  see  your  grizzled  face.     But  this, 
What's  this  that  I  must  do? 

TUBAL.  Our  wines  are  flat 

Without  the  boy  we  miss.     Come  home  with  us. 

IRAD.     What,  now? 

TUBAL.  Why  not?     What  drowsy 

godliness 
Have  you  to   pack?      Come,   share  the  wealth   of 

friends. 
We  feast  the  gods  to-night. 

NOAH.  Decide  not  rashly. 

Strange  things  you  know  not  are  astir  to-day 
Might  change  your  choice  to-morrow. 

IRAD.  Had  you  come 


8         THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

But  yester-morning !     Blood  since  then  has  flowed, 
And  made  me  conscience'  captive. 

TUBAL.  Let  it  flow. 

We  were  not  born  to  bleat  like  lambs,  my  lad ; 
And  our  o'er-zealous  friend  harangued  too  long. 
'Twas  a  good  blow. 

IRAD.  Yes,  with  a  single  stroke 

I've  killed  one  man  and  damned  another. 

TUBAL.  Tut,  tut ! 

I  have  been  damned  for  centuries  and  have  thrived. 

IRAD.     I  beg  an  hour  ere  answering. 

TUBAL.  What!  so  cool 

Between  our  love  and  dungeons ! 

NOAH.  He  is  free, 

May  go  or  stay.     Send  Javan  now  to  us. 
Till  then,  my  lord,  you  are  our  guest. 

TUBAL.  I  thank  you. 

I'll  take  a  nap  and  sleep  away  the  time. 
Think  on  old  ties,  my  boy,  think  on  old  ties, 
Who  played  with  you,  caroused  with  you,  and  stood 
Bestriding  you  in  battle.     You'll  not  find 
Their  like  in  Noah's  milk-and-water  saints. 
I'll  see  you  in  an  hour. 

[Exit  Tubal-cain  and  retinue.     Music.] 

NOAH.  What  strains  are  these? 

FRIEND.     Hither  they  bring  the  dead  for  sunrise 

rite, 
Our  last  farewell. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  9 

NOAH  (to  Irad).    Wilt  thou  withdraw? 
IRAD.  I'll  stay. 

But  tell  not  Javan,  add  not  his  reproach. 
NOAH.     He  shall  not  know  to-day. 

[Enter  attendants  with  the  body  of  Enoch.] 

Here  lay  him  down. 
Weep  not;  he  journeys  to  eternal  God. 
All  weakness  which  is  flesh's  heritage 
Falls  down  like  ashes  burnt ;  and  the  clear  fire, 
Through  aether  leaping,  seeks  the  sun  that  gave  it. 
Alas,  my  brother,  yet  rejoice.     Farewell! 

[The  Noahites  move  in  procession  around  the  bier, 
each  laying  a  white  wreath  on  it  as  he  speaks.] 

FIRST  NOAHITE.     Farewell. 
SECOND  NOAHITE.  Farewell. 

THIRD  NOAHITE.  Farewell. 

FOURTH  NOAHITE.  Farewell. 

FIFTH  NOAHITE.  Farewell. 


SONG 

Where  shall  the  champion  rest, 
The  brave,  the  eager, 

Who  filled  his  Lord's  behest 
In  field  and  leaguer? 


10       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

For  him  all  j  oys  are  blent, 

Long  Sabbath  keeping 
Soft  in  Jehovah's  tent, 

Like  children  sleeping. 

More  grand  than  stone  could  rear 

His  tomb  is  founded, 
The  sea  that  wraps  the  sphere, 

Blue  and  unbounded. 

Farewell !     Hard  task  have  we 

New  worlds  restoring. 
Some  day  we'll  rest  with  thee, 

Our  God  adoring. 

Where  the  great  feast  is  spread 

And  lamps  are  lighted, 
Shall  we  beyond  the  dead 

Be  yet  united. 

I  RAD.    And  shall  I  also  dare  to  say  farewell  ? 
Stern  hast  thou  been,  yet  may'st  relent  to  know 
Who  sent  thee  hence  now  mourns.     Alas  my  deed ! 
So  far  from  all  I  purposed !     Is  it  true 
That  in  my  veins  wells  up  the  ancient  curse  ? 
Am  I  a  thing  at  odds  with  life,  akin 
To  upas-tree  and  tiger  ?     Must  the  world 
Kill  me  or  die  by  me  ?     In  what  far  years 
Did  my  dead  fathers  rob  their  heirs  of  hope, 
Blasting  their  self-control? 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  11 

[Enter  Javan.~\ 

JAVAN.  Where  lies  our  dead? 

NOAH.     Behold. 

JAVAN.  Can  heart  so  fiery  be  so  still? 

Rash  was  thy  tongue  and  stern,  unhappy  man, 
Which  hath  provoked  too  much  some  son  of  Cain. 
Forgive  me  that  in  life  I  j  arred  with  thee. 
Rest  happy  and  farewell. 

NOAH.  Bear  hence  the  dead. 

And,  Javan,  as  thou  lovest  Irad  well, 
Remain  and  speak  with  him.     The  Cainite  lords 
Wait  here  to  bear  him  back. 

[Exeunt  all  except  Irad  and  Javan.] 

JAVAN.  You  play  with  us. 

You  cannot  think  in  earnest  you  will  go. 

IRAD.    Why  not?     The  voice  that  calls  the  hom 
ing  wren 
Calls  me  where   I   was  born.      Look  down  where 

stands 

Cain's  ancient  city,  while  the  morning  hush 
Descends  on  amphitheater,  park,  and  dome. 
There  lie  my  mother's  and  my  father's  graves ; 
There  lives  my  grandsire,  Jared,  weak  and  old, 
Who  calls  for  me  in  vain.     There  watches  Adah, 
My  love,  abruptly,  cruelly  left  by  me. 
Shall  these  not  draw  me  home  ? 

JAVAN.  All  there  is  evil. 

Good  with  the  good  should  bide,  and  you  with  us. 


12       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

I  RAD.     Oh,  never  say  that  all  in  Cain  is  evil, — 
That  roseate  glow  in  which  prosaic  life 
Grows  beautiful,  imperial,  strong.      To-night 
They  hold  their  feast  to  Niloh,  god  of  harvest. 
All  barriers  broken,  there  the  joy  of  life 
Pours  out  in  flood :  all  wealth  of  nature's  realm, 
In  fruit  or  blossom  or  enchanting  wine, 
Or  mystery  of  love,  the  whole  night  long 
Observed  by  happy  youth;  all  wealth  of  art, 
Heaped  up  by  lake  or  fountain,  piled  profuse 
In  dome  or  gallery,  pouring  on  the  ear 
In  melody  to  which  in  earth  and  star 
Breath  universal  moves.     Is  Niloh  evil, 
Great  source  of  life  and  life's  romance  as  well? 

JAVAN.     Yet  ever  at  his  name  my  father  frowns. 
Wouldst  thou  that  I  should  worship  Niloh? 

IRAD.  No. 

JAVAN.     Why  not,  if  he  is  good  ? 

IRAD.  He  is  not  good. 

That  I  unsay;  incarnate  sin  is  he; 
But  sin  that  makes  all  life  enchanted  ground. 
'Tis  virtuous  winter  here;  and  I'd  be  gone, 
Like  birds  that  migrate  to  the  sunny  south, 
To  find  where  rapture  dwells. 

JAVAN.  Dwells  it  not  here? 

Oh,  yes,  all  beauty,  joy  of  youth  and  bard, 
Untainted  and  eternal  joy.     But  now, 
On  yonder  mountain,  scratched  along  the  stone, 
I  found  an  old  and  rainbeat  stave  of  song 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  13 

Which  legends  tell  that  martyred  Abel  made. 

Men  say  he  used  to  climb  Niphates'  peak, 

From  whence  his  eye  looked  like  an  eagle  down 

On  the  Forbidden  Garden.     There  he  drew 

The  beauty  of  the  landscape  through  his  soul 

Like  breath  through  nostrils ;  poured  it  out  in  song 

That  made  all  life  seem  miracle.     And  more,, 

Emotion  warm  as  day  and  vast  as  night, 

Lives  musical  among  the  sons  of  Seth. 

Stay  here  with  me.     You  taught  me  first  to  know 

The  joy  of  being.     I'll  teach  you  in  turn 

To  find  it  on  our  wild  and  healthful  hills, 

Free  as  in  yonder  city. 

IRAD.  So  you  might, 

Came  memories  not  between.    Last  night  I  dreamed 
You  stood  and  watched  me  through  a  bloody  glass, 
And  through  that  glass  would  watch  me  evermore, 
Seeing  my  face  as  hideous. 

JAVAN.  What  is  this  ? 

IRAD.     A  dream,  no  more.     But  dreams  like  this 

will  come 

To  break  my  rest,  while  here  I  wait  and  pine 
In  the  dull  chill  of  unaccustomed  ways, 
A  tolerated  alien.    And  in  Nod 
Foams  the  rich  wine  that  makes  the  heart  forget. 
I'll  mourn  thee,  Javan,  more  than  thou  wilt  me; 
But  go  I  must. 

JAVAN.  Now  by  Jehovah,  no ! 


14       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

IRAD.     Yea,  lad;  my  will  is  fixed.     We've  long 

been  friends; 
But  now  'tis  parting  time. 

JAVAN.  So  mad !    Then  hear 

What  still  from  thee  we  kept,  a  truth  so  dread 
To  one  whose  friends  and  kindred  dwell  below 
I'd  fain  conceal  it  still.    When  first  you  came 
Did  not  my  father  tell  you  earth  was  doomed? 
And  that  tremendous  ship  at  anchor  near, 
High  on  this  mountain  lake,  a  century's  work, 
Know  you  not  why  he  built  it? 

IRAD.  Yea,  I  know. 

Doomsday  is  coming;  but  'tis  years  away; 
And  I  and  mine  may  live,  be  glad,  and  die, 
Ere  the  great  Deluge  swell. 

JAVAN.  Nay,  there  you  err. 

Not  years  nor  months  nor  even  days,  but  hours 
Shall  be  your  life  in  Nod.     The  time  is  now. 
Even  at  this  moment  God's  avenging  Flood 
Is  gathering  o'er  the  nations. 

IRAD.  You  are  mad ! 

JAVAN.      Look  westward  where   I   point.      Just 

visible 

Beyond  those  hilltops  lies  the  ocean  shore 
In  the  blue  distance.     Look,  do  you  not  see 
Strange  clouds  of  smoky  mist,  that  heavenward 
Roll  from  the  deep,  and  pile  themselves  aloft 
Like  rocks  that  soldiers  pile  on  city  walls 
To  hurl  upon  invaders  ?     Breeze  is  none, 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  15 

And  still  they  stand.    But  with  the  night  shall  blow 
A  western  wind  to  drive  them,  dark  with  doom, 
O'er  earth,  and  pouring  from  their  cup  the  sea. 
And  hark ;  with  straining  ear  can  you  not  catch 
From    that    same    west    a    strange,    deep,    boding 

sound  ? 

There  crack  the  dykes  of  ocean ;  there  awakes, 
Reluctant  from  the  sleep  of  centuries, 
A  monster  huger  than  leviathan, 
The  dim,  dread  deep  itself.     The  hour  has  come. 
To-day  the  race  of  Cain,  the  land  of  Nod, 
Rejoice  at  Niloh's  knee.     At  dawn  to-morrow 
Race,  god,  and  country,  all  that  glittering  life, 
Its  beauty,  blasphemy,  and  glory,  and  sin, 
Shall  pave  the  ocean  bottom.     There  from  the  west, 
Where  break  the  fountains  of  the  deep,  and  loom 
The  freighted  clouds  of  judgment,  even  now 
Comes  God  to  cleanse  His  world. 

IRAD.  Eternal  Powers ! 

JAVAN.     At  noon  must  all  embark,  the  doors  be 

sealed. 

And  all  on  whom  those  doors  shall  close,  all  life, 
Man,  bird,  or  animal,  or  crawling  snake, 
Is  doomed.     You  shall  not  go ! 

IRAD.  Oh,  stand  aside! 

Leave  me  to  my  own  thoughts ! 

[Javan  withdraws  to  the  side   of  the  scene.] 

Is  this  a  dream? 


16       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

There's  not  one  thing  in  field  or  town  or  air 
But  seems  as  it  hath  seemed  ten  thousand  times 
In  life's  untroubled  course.     The  face  of  heaven, 
Oft  called  the  countenance  of  the  Living  God, 
Appears  one  kindly  smile.     And  far  and  near 
With  such  infectious  confidence  move  on 
The  race  of  men,  what  heart  can  help  but  feel 
With  them  that  all  is  well !     Worlds  should  not  die 
Puffed  out  like  candles,  blown  away  like  mist. 
Yet  one  I  trust  declares  it  so  from  Heaven. 
O  God,  if  God  Thou  art,  is  it  not  terrible 
To  think  old  homes  and  ties,  ancestral  graves, 
Friends  once  beloved,  those  landmarks  where  our 

lives 

Took  root  and  grew,  should  mix  with  ocean  mud; 
And  all  we  worshiped,  loved,  and  lived  for,  be 
One  blank  of  waters  !     Never,  never,  never ! 
Heaven  would  not  be  so  stern.     Men  mark  alone 
The  tilted  scale ;  God  knows  what  mountain  loads 
Of  human  goodness  tugged  the  wavering  beam 
With  earth's  tremendous  guilt.     It  cannot  be! 
Be  merciful,  be  merciful,  O  God ! 

[He  throws  himself  on  his  face  and  is  silent.     Then 
after  a  pause  he  speaks  again.] 

Suppose  it  true,  shall  I  in  Noah's  ark 
Crouch  like  a  dog  while  friend  and  kinsman  drown  ? 
There  watch  the  corpse  of  Adah  drifting  by, 
Her  hair  afloat  like  sea-weed,  and  her  bosom 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  17 

Nosed  by  the  shark ;  and  when  the  Flood  goes  down, 
Serve  aliens  o'er  my  dead,  while  from  his  toinb 
Enoch  shall  haunt  my  sleep? 

[Enter  Tubal-cain.~] 

Oh,  is  it  you? 

Come,  brother  spirit,  you  can  laugh  at  death, 
Given  or  received.     Come,  and  we'll  laugh  together. 
One  whole  long  day  of  j  oy  is  ours ;  away ! 

JAVAN.    Irad,  where  go  you? 

IRAD.  Where  my  people  are. 

Into  the  joy  of  one  last  Niloh's  feast, 
Into  the  night  where  dim  oblivion  dwells, 
And    guilt   has   peace;    where   my    hot  murderer's 

heart 

May  sleep  as  quiet  as  my  great  father  Cain's ! 
Sorrow  to  sorrow  calls,  and  crime  to  crime ; 
And  theirs  I  am  for  earth  and  for  all  time ! 

[He   rushes  away.] 

TUBAL.     His  choice  is  made.     Adieu. 

JAVAN.  One  question  first. 

Enoch  is  dead. 

TUBAL.  I  know  it. 

JAVAN.  Know  it !    How  ? 

Were  you  his  murderer? 

TUBAL.  Think  so  if  you  will. 

I'll  ne'er  object. 


18       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

JAVAN    (turning  from   him).      His   blood   is   on 

your  soul. 

Forgive  me,  Irad,  what  I  dared  to  think. 
(Calling)  Wait,  friend,  one  moment! 

TUBAL.  Youngster,  not  so  fast. 

You  stir  not  hence  a  step  till  he  is  safe 
O'er  yonder  boundary  where  my  horsemen  wait. 
JAVAN.     Ruffian,  I'll  dog  thy  flight  but  he  shall 

hear. 
TUBAL.     Good    friend,    you    are    too    young   to 

loathe  your  life. 

Take  my  advice  and  bide  on  Noah's  ground. 
There's  danger  yonder. 

JAVAN.  What  fiend  made  you  so  strong? 

TUBAL.     He   mounts   and   rides;   they   wait    for 
me.     Farewell. 

[Half  draws  his  sword  with  a  menacing  gesture, 
and  exit.] 

JAVAN.     Gone,  gone ! 

[Enter  a  Noahite.] 

NOAHITE.  Is  Irad  fled? 

JAVAN.  Fled  to  his  doom. 

NOAHITE.     God's  will  is  hard. 

JAVAN.  At  friendship's  call  he  dies. 

Shall  I  do  less  ?     Look  there !    Against  the  dawn 
How    high    towers    Himenay    o'er    the    mountains 
round ! 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  19 

Has  God  not  said  when  seas  o'er  mountains  flowed 
On  Himenay's  peak  the  ark  should  find  dry  land  ? 

NOAHITE.     Even  so. 

JAVAN.     Enough !    A  god  might  stand  on  tiptoe, 
And  yet  not  reach  its  crest  to  pull  you  down. 
What  think  you,  man? 

NOAHITE.  How  now?    Your  looks  are  wild. 

JAVAN.     Go,  bid  them  bring  my  horse. 

NOAHITE.  Ride  not  to-day. 

At  noon  the  doors  are  sealed ;  when  that  is  done 
Noah's  own  child  might  knock  unheard. 

JAVAN.  Be  gone. 

I  shall  not  knock  after  the  doors  are  sealed. 

CURTAIN. 


ACT  II. 

SCENE    I. 

TIME.     The  eve  of  the  Deluge. 

PLACE.  The  great  square  in  the  center  of  Cain's 
city.  In  the  background  is  a  statue  of  Niloh,  the 
harvest  god,  "the  reaper  of  delight."  On  one  side 
are  lofty  buildings;  on  the  other  the  grounds  of  a 
magnificent  park.  Beyond  is  a  glimpse  of  the 
western  horizon  piled  with  strange  looking  clouds. 
The  scene  begins  at  twilight,  but  night  gathers  as 
it  progresses.  A  crowd  gradually  forms  around 
the  pedestal  of  the  statue. 

[Enter  four  gallants  singing.] 

FIRST  GALLANT. 

Come,  gather,  friends ;  one  more  carouse, 
While  stars  benign  in  heaven  house, 
And  tinkling  lyre  and  torch  invite 
To  taste  the  joy  of  Niloh's  night. 

SECOND  GALLANT. 

The  darkened  hours  begin  to  bud 
On  Time's  old  trunk  for  us  to  pull ; 
Enchantment  warms  the  lover's  blood; 
The  vineyard's  magic  tide  is  full. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  21 

THIRD  GALLANT. 

Deem  not  the  gods  forbid  to  drink 
The  cup  of  joy  they  deign  to  brew; 
The  throned  immortals  laugh  and  wink 
At  what  they  would  and  would  not  view. 

FOURTH  GALLANT. 

Waste  not  what  Nature  ne'er  renews; 
She'll  warm  no  more  the  faded  flowers, 
Nor  offer  twice  what  we  refuse 
When  life  and  lovely  youth  are  ours. 

FIRST  GALLANT.  But  remember  before  we  part 
that  you  are  all  to  come  down  to-morrow  and  share 
my  villa  in  the  hills.  Everything  which  you  wish 
shall  be  there  at  your  disposal.  Would  you  feast, 
we  have  loaded  our  tables  with  meats  and  wines. 
Would  you  hear  musicians  or  see  paintings,  we  have 
the  best  in  Nod.  Would  you  sail  on  the  waters  of 
Dreamland,  we  will  launch  you  with  lotus  and 
poppy.  Nay,  if  you  wish,  you  may  even  find  the 
roguish  Loves  playing  at  hide-and-seek  in  a  corner. 
Gardens  are  there  as  pleasant  as  old  Adam's  Eden, 
and  unlimited  time  before  us  to  enj  oy  them.  You'll 
come  ? 

SECOND,  THIRD  AND  FOURTH  GALLANTS.  We'll 
not  forget. 

SECOND  GALLANT.     Will  the  poet  Iban  be  there? 

FIRST  GALLANT.    He  joins  us  later. 

THIRD  GALLANT.     He  is  a  genius,  Iban. 


22       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

FOURTH  GALLANT.     I  preferred  Bahran ;  he  had 

the  fire. 
SECOND  AND   THIRD   GALLANTS.      Oh,  no,   Iban 

forever!     What  technique! 
FIRST  GALLANT.     We  start  at  noon  to-morrow. 

(It  lightens  in  the  west.) 

[They  move  on.  Two  corpses  are  borne  in  and 
halted  before  the  shrine.  Enter  Javan  and  a 
Cainite.] 

CAINITE.     There  stands  the  shrine;  there  soon 

your  friend  must  come. 
JAVAN.    What  dead  are  here? 
CAINITE.  It  is  the  poet  Bahran. 

JAVAN.      He  looks   like    Irad.      Oft   my  cousin 

praised  him. 

Did  Heaven  love  him  that  he  died  to-day, 
Or  mark  him  first  for  wrath?    What  boy  is  this ? 
CAINITE.      Did    you   not    know?      He    was    the 

prettiest  lad. 

Bahran  left  wife  and  mistress,  friend  and  home 
For  love  of  him,  adored  him,  hung  their  chamber 
With  curtains  worth  a  province,  built  sweet  foun 
tains 
By  which  they  lay  together. 

JAVAN.  Was  their  bond 

Pure  or  polluted? 

CAINITE.  Let  their  foes  inquire, 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  23 

Their  friends  but  say  they  loved.      The  boy  died 

first. 

He  had  the  fever ;  Bahran  watched  with  him ; 
And  when  he  saw  the  form  he  loved  grow  cold, 
He  killed  himself.     "Nor  man  nor  woman  more 
Shall  share  my  love,"  he  said,  and  speaking  died, 
His  arms  around  his  playmate. 

JAVAN.  Irad's  Bahran. 

CAINITE.     His  home  was  like  a  palace,  and  his 

gardens 
The  loveliest  thing  on  earth ;  a  nation  praised  him. 

JAVAN.    Where  goes  he  now? 

CAINITE.  All  night  to  lie  in  state 

Within  the  dome.     His  funeral  is  to-morrow. 
Sad  day  'twill  be.     Adieu. 

[Exit.] 

JAVAN.  He  looks  like  one 

Whose  vice  entombed  a  dead  and  nobler  self. 

[He  stands  aside.     Enter  a  man  and  woman.] 

MAN.     Will  you  not  yield  ?    It  is  the  lovers'  hour. 
Clear  trills  the  bird  of  love,  and  twinkling  beams 
The  orb  of  lovers.     I  have  wooed  you  long. 
Why  was  this  beauty  given  you  ?    Why  to  me 
This  burning  blood  and  power  to  taste  delight  ? 

WOMAN.     I  have  a  husband. 

MAN.  So  has  many  a  woman. 

I  know  a  fountain  welling  up  in  stone 


24       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

As  fair  as  you.    Its  waves  are  ever  sweet, 
Though  more  than  one  has  tasted. 

WOMAN.  Ever  sweet 

While  tasted  only.    Should  you  plunge  and  wallow, 
Who'd  care  to  drink  that  gentle  fountain  then? 
Restrained  delight  is  dearest. 

MAN.  Not  forever. 

WOMAN.    To-night  my  husband  and  myself  must 

watch 

In  Niloh's  worship;  but,  beloved,  to-morrow — 
Ah,  then— 

MAN.      Oh,   much    will    mean    that    word    "to 
morrow"  ! 

No  eye  shall  see  us  where  we're  lying  then, 
Nor  any  husband  know. 

WOMAN.  And  now  goodnight. 

How  sweet  is  life !    And  'twill  be  doubly  sweet 
To-morrow!     (It  lightens  in  the  west.) 

[They  pass  on.     Enter  Irad.] 

JAVAN.     My  cousin  Irad! 

IRAD.  How,  misguided  boy ! 

What  evil  genius  led  your  wanderings  here 
To-night  of  all  the  years  ? 

JAVAN.  The  name  of  friend. 

IRAD.    Wilt  share  my  fortunes,  then,  and  fly  with 

me? 

JAVAN.      To  earth's  four  windy  corners,  if  you 
will. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  25 

I  RAD.     Look  yonder  where  the  mountains  loom; 

up  them 
We'll  climb  past  ocean's  reach. 

JAVAN.  Nay,  nay,  not  there. 

In  three  short  days  those  puny  peaks  will  be 
But  rocks  in  ocean's  bed.     I've  risked  my  life 
To  show  a  safer  way.     'Tis  yonder,  see, 
Up  Himenay's  peak ;  for  there,  as  God  has  said, 
After  the  Flood  the  ark  shall  find  dry  land. 

IRAD.     That  way  is  long,  the  Deluge  close. 

JAVAN.  No  more! 

Take  that  or  nothing;  lesser  heights  are  death. 

[Enter  Tubal-cain.] 

IRAD.      You   empty-handed   too,  nor   found   our 
friends  ? 

TUBAL.     They  march  in  Niloh's  column,  this  I 

learned. 
We'll  wait  it  here  and  meet  them ;  better  so. 

IRAD.     I've  wasted  golden  hours  in  this  pursuit 
We  ill  could  spare,  and  traversed  all  the  town, 
Home,  hall,  and  council  chamber. 

TUBAL.  Well,  be  calm. 

Long  absence  weaned  you  from  our  life ;  this  tour 
Of  high  and  low  refreshed  the  faded  lines, 
Renewed  the  picture. 

IRAD.  Work  of  burning  pencils 

Were  not  more  vivid.     Eager  everywhere 


26       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

The  people  trod  each  other's  heels,  as  though 
There  were  a  million  morrows. 

TUBAL.  Well,  there  are. 

IRAD.    The  lords  in  council  voted  richer  hangings 
Around  their  hall.     Near  by  were  masons  laying 
A  castle's  corner-stone.     Beside  the  way 
I  met  three  children  gay  as  crickets  dancing, 
Who,  when  I  asked  their  cause  of  gladness,  piped: 
"The  holidays  have  come,  the  holidays 
Begin  to-night."    And  one,  a  little  maid, 
Whose  face  was  like  a  blossom,  cried,  "To-morrow 
We'll  gather  Niloh's  roses."     Then  a  mother, 
With  sunken  face,  but  smiling,  told  a  neighbor 
That  now  her  griefs  were  done,  her  son,  imprisoned 
Long  years  ago,  would  be  released  to-morrow. 
You  would  have  thought  the  hoarded  bliss  of  earth 
Was  in  that  word  "to-morrow." 

TUBAL.  What's  all  this  r 

IRAD.     I'll  let  thee  know  at  dawning. 

TUBAL.  Hark,  the  music! 

'Tis  Niloh's  trumpet  that  the  choristers 
Are    blowing    as    they    march.      Our    friends    are 
coming. 

[Enter  in  procession  the  priests  of  Niloh,  led  by 
the  high  pontiff.  They  are  dressed  in  purple 
with  golden  ornaments,  and  as  emblems  carry 
broken  fetters.  Last  in  the  procession  moves 
the  blind  Jared,  led  by  another  priest.  They 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  27 

circle  three  times  around  the  idol,  singing  to 
music.  ] 

SONG 

We  dwelt  in  the  valley  of  thunder, 

And  the  Elohim  sat  on  the  edge ; 
The  Heavens  were  holding  us  under, 

And  the  lightning  came  down  like  a  wedge. 
And  the  cherubim,  armored  and  sworded, 

Flew  sentinel,  dreadful  to  see ; 
While  like  misers  we  garnered  and  hoarded 

Life's  treasure  for  ages  to  be. 
But  Niloh  came  manteled  in  beauty 

Through  the  valley  of  woe  and  affright; 
He  hewed  down  the  thorn-tree  of  Duty, 

And  planted  the  rose  of  Delight. 
Through  pleasure  exulting  or  tender 

He  led  us  like  monarchs  released ; 
And  he  housed  us  pavilioned  in  splendor, 

And  placed  us  forever  at  feast. 
Let  our  children  from  cycle  to  cycle 

Lament  that  their  coffers  are  void; 
But  though  Eden  is  guarded  by  Michael, 

Despite  him  we've  lived  and  enjoyed. 
And  our  fame  till  the  mountains  are  leveled, 

Like  a  cloud  that  the  sunset  has  laved, 
Shall  tell  in  what  glory  we  reveled 

On  the  wealth  that  the  ages  had  saved. 


28       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

[Irad  draws  aside  Jared  and  his  companion,  while 
tine  other  priests  move  on.] 

JARED.     What  voice  is  this  I  hear?     Is  it  not 
Irad? 

IRAD.    Ten  moons  you  heard  it  not.    Is  it  so  dear 
You  know  it  now? 

JARED.     Ah,  boy,  these  blind  old  eyes 
Have  wept  thee  many  an  hour. 

IRAD.  Your  blessing,  sir. 

JARED.     All  Niloh's  joys  and  length  of  years  be 
thine. 

PRIEST.      Your    face   makes    summer  in   an   old 

man's  life. 
You'll  feast  with  me  to-night  ? 

IRAD.  Your  pardon,  sir; 

I've  other  work. 

PRIEST.  A-ha!  this  other  work! 

Young  blood,  young  blood!     I  have  been  young, 

and  known 

What  Niloh  gave,  the  wondrous  body  of  youth. 
I  am  not  jealous.     'Tis  a  sightly  night; 
Dark  clouds  along  the  west,  but  clear  above. 
How  dim  the  stars  are!     What's  that  light  that 

burns 
Behind  Orion  yonder? 

TUBAL.  There's  another 

Off  to  the  north,  and  eastward  gleams  a  third. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  29 

PRIEST.      They    come    and    go.      There    shines 

another  out, 

As  if  a  window  opened  in  the  sky 
And  closed  again. 

JAVAN.  Adown  the  south  they  gleam 

Like  rents  in  burning  walls  that  part  and  totter ! 

PRIEST.     What  mean  these  silent  fires  in  open 
heaven  ? 

TUBAL.     Now  I  was  ever  a  cheery  augur,  man. 
I  deem  the  gods,  carousing  in  the  sky, 
Are  sprawled  in  ecstasy,  upsetting  round 
Celestial  torch  and  cresset.    And  if  so, 
Why,  well  do  what  we  please,  and  drowsy  Heaven 
Be  none  the  wiser. 

JAVAN.  That's  a  daring  jest! 

TUBAL.    Nay,  Sethite;  thought  so  reverent  never 

lit 

Thy  dingy  brain,  devising  gods  of  whey. 
Where  the  Great  Reaper,  girt  with  lambent  life, 
In  life's  wild  maelstrom  which  his  pulses  share, 
Reels  on  through  nodding  heaven  and  rushing  star, 
There  is  a  deity,  an  existence  there 
Which    scorns    your    pap    and    swaddling    laws — 
divine ! 

PRIEST.      The  western  wind  blows   keen.     O'er 

Noah's  hill 
How  black  the  tempest  heaves ! 

TUBAL.  I'm  still  perverse. 

That  biggest  cloud,  just  o'er  the  central  peak, 


30       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

Appears  a  giant  cask,,  that  jovial  gods 
Would  stave  o'er  earth  in  oceans. 

IRAD-  Hark,  the  music  ! 

[Enter  a  chorus  of  Bacchants.  They  wear  gar 
lands  in  which  bunches  of  grapes  are  entwined 
with  lotus  leaves  and  the  flowers  of  the  opium 
poppy.  In  their  hands  some  carry  goblets  of 
wine,  others  leaves  of  lotus  or  heads  of  poppy. 
They  circle  around  the  idol,  singing.] 


SONG 

Which  has  more  power, — 

And  who  shall  determine? — 
Fruitage  and  flower, 

Or  king  in  the  ermine  ? 
Which  has  more  use 

To  heighten  life's  meaning, 
Petal  and  juice, 

Or  gold  of  thy  gleaning? 
Wrapped  in  the  rind, 

Instilled  in  the  stamen, 
More  in  its  kind 

Than  fighter  or  flamen; 
Stored  in  the  stem, 

Enclosed  in  the  anther, 
Fairer  than  gem, 

And  fiercer  than  panther; 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  31 

Deeps  of  desire 

And  manhood  amassing,, 
Focused  like  fire 

On  the  hour  that  is  passing; 
Doomed  by  decree, 

And  falsely  forbidden, — 
Here  is  the  key 

Of  the  hoard  that  was  hidden. 
Bards  beyond  count 

Till  ages  are  hoary, 
Fed  from  the  fount, 

Shall  sing  of  its  glory. 

A   BACCHANT.      'Tis   Irad.      Welcome,   welcome 

back  to  Nod ! 
BACCHANTS.     Ho,  Irad,  Irad,  join  the  dance  with 

us! 
IRAD.      No,   not  to-night.      Comrades,   farewell, 

farewell ! 

[The  chorus  moves  on.     Enter  a  conspirator,  ap 
proaching  Javan,~\ 

CONSPIRATOR.     Hist,  brother. 
JAVAN.  Who  are  you? 

CONSPIRATOR.  Nay,  be  not  strange. 

What  will  the  morning  prove? 

JAVAN.  A  thing  of  dread. 

CONSPIRATOR.      Then  he  you  are  to  whom  they 
sent  me  here. 


32       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

It  works  apace.     All's  ready,  all  in  train; 
Your  trumpet  blown  will  throw  a  kingdom  down. 

JAVAN.     When  so? 

CONSPIRATOR.    At  sunrise ;  thus  'tis  understood. 

JAVAN.     At  sunrise  be  it. 

CONSPIRATOR.  Then  we'll  meet  again. 

Laugh,  giddy  crowd.     From  mendicant  to  king, 
None  dream  but  us  of  what  the  morn  will  bring. 
Speed,  hours  of  night ;  for  while  ye  hold  the  sky 
We  are  but  men,  as  men  may  fail  and  die. 
But  soon  will  dawn  the  wished  for  day,  and  we 
Be  lords  of  all  the  land  our  eyes  can  see. 

[He  moves  on.  Enter  a  chorus  of  poets  and  artists 
of  all  kinds.  They  bear  various  instruments 
of  their  different  callings.  In  their  midst  on 
a  splendid  litter  they  carry  Adah,  enthroned 
as  the  Goddess  of  Beauty  and  Pleasure.  They 
circle  the  idol  and  sing.] 

SONG 

Wherefore  should  art 

Upon  conscience  be  founded, 
Searching  the  heart 

Like  an  ocean  unsounded? 
Why  should  it  point 

To  a  path  for  pursuing, 
Vainly  anoint 

Eyes  weary  of  viewing? 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  33 

Art  is  divine 

But  softer  and  sweeter, 
Lovely  in  line, 

And  mystic  in  meter; 
Waking  the  nerve 

O'er  the  wisdom  that  slumbers, 
Graceful  of  curve, 

And  noble  in  numbers. 
Bound  in  its  mesh 

Is  the  fay  that  was  fleeing, 
Joy  of  the  flesh 

And  beauty  of  being. 
Life  in  its  bowl 

To  a  drop  it  condenses, 
Lulling  the  soul, 

And  charming  the  senses. 
Vainly  the  years 

Would  banish  or  bind  it ; 
Deep  it  inheres, 

And  the  future  shall  find  it. 

[Adah  descends  and  places  her  tiara  on  the  knee 
of  Niloh.  The  chorus  kneel  while  she  does 
so,  and  then  move  on.  As  Adah  turns  away 
from  the  statue  she  meets  Irad.~\ 

ADAH.     Whence  comest  thou  unlocked  for  ? 

IRAD.  Lo,  I'm  kneeling 

And  weeping,  Adah.     Thou  art  pale.     How  far 
I  sinned  in  flight  from  what  I  deemed  as  sin! 


34       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

ADAH.      Art   thou    returned?      Why   didst   thou 

leave  me  so? 

IRAD.     I'll  tell  thee  later,  but  forgive  me  now. 
ADAH.     From  what  fair  daughter  of  the  race  of 

Seth 
Com'st  thou  to  me  for  change? 

IRAD-  No  woman's  face 

Has  filled  my  heart  but  thine.     Thy  only  rivals 
Were  dreams  that  now  are  dead.     Wilt  thou  for 
give  me? 

ADAH.     What  else  can  woman  do  ?     Too  well  you 

know 

Our  hearts  are  clay  where  yours  are  hammered 
steel. 

IRAD.     Are  these  hot  drops  that  tremble  on  my 

cheek 

Like  metal  plummets  ?     Do  my  warm  lips  feel 
Like  chilling  iron? 

JARED.  Clasp  each  other  close. 

'Tis  Niloh's  night,  and  Niloh's  blessing  falls 
On  love  and  lovers.  I'm  a  gray  old  stump, 
But  in  my  children's  joy  my  youth  reblossoms. 

[Enter  a  procession  of  young  men  and  women 
marching  in  couples  chained  together  with 
flowers,  and  accompanied  by  little  children 
dressed  as  Loves.  They  circle  around  the  idol, 
and  sing.] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  35 

SONG 

Why  should  the  bee 

Become  bound  if  it  settle, 
Whose  flight  might  be  free 

From  petal  to  petal? 
Why  should  the  pear 

Fall  fresh  and  untasted  ? 
Or  unbreathed  be  the  air 

Round  the  jasmine,  and  wasted? 
Why  should  we  thirst 

Among  fountains  for  quaffing? 
Why  two  be  accurst 

When  both  might  be  laughing? 
Why  was  the  sun 

Made  common  and  cheering 
If  light  we  should  shun, 

Or  feed  on  it  fearing? 
Strength  may  decay, 

But  its  uses  are  over; 
The  puny  can  play, 

And  the  least  be  a  lover. 
God  is  ensealed 

In  the  peach,  as  its  Former; 
But  more  sweetly  revealed 

In  what's  rounder  and  warmer. 
Hosts  have  no  hire, 

And  archers  are  idle, 
While  Youth  and  Desire 

Go  marching  to  bridal. 


36       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

THE  MEN.     Ho,  Irad,  Irad,  clasp  thy  love  and 
come ! 

THE  WOMEN.     Come,,  Adah,  come!     Ten  moons 

thy  life  was  cold 

Because  thou  loved'st  one,  and  he  is  here. 
The  night  is   Niloh's;   clasp   thy  love   and  come! 

IRAD.     Stern  gods  forbid.     Playmates,  farewell, 
farewell ! 

JAVAN.    Let  us  go  hence !    God  comes  at  dawn. 

IRAD.  Yea,  true. 

Grandfather,  Tubal-cain,  draw  near  to  me. 
'Tis  Niloh's  night  when  he  is  lord  supreme; 
His  slightest  breath  we  must  obey  as  law. 
But  now,  delivered  through  his  aged  priest, 
To  me  his  summons  came.     He  bids  us  all, 
Before  his  hour  is  past,  in  pilgrimage 
To  seek  his  temple  on  Mount  Himenay, 
A  rite  that  all  should  do,  that  never  yet 
Our  family  have  done.     Our  horses  wait 
All  ready  saddled,  and  the  god  commands. 
Our  servants  are  at  hand,  all  things  prepared. 
Let  us  be  gone. 

JARED.  Ha,  ha,  impulsive  boy! 

Is  Adah's  heart  so  hard  to  reconcile, 
Her  love  so  unlike  others,  nought  will  serve 
But  holiest  ground ;  and  we  must  post  all  night 
To  find  what's  here  at  home?     Come,  lad,  I'm  old, 
Unfit  for  such  wild  gallops.     Niloh's  orders, — 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  37 

Oh,  well,  I  know  him;  he's  a  kindly  god; 

He'll  wink  and  laugh.     Be  reasonable,  stay  here. 

IRAD.     I  have  a  litter  borne  on  horses  near 
For  you  and  Adah.    Come ! 

ADAH.  Wait  here  till  morning. 

We'll  travel  warm  in  sunlight  where  the  road 
Winds  high  above  the  sightly  earth,  and  look 
For  miles  below  us.    All  the  land  will  be 
One  glorious  picture  in  the  light  to-morrow. 
We'd  lose  all  this  at  night. 

IRAD.  'Twill  be  a  picture — 

No,  let  that   rest.     Oh,  haste!     What  comes   ere 

dawn 
Would  justify  a  hundred  times  as  much. 

TUBAL.    A  storm  is  blowing  up ;  look  over  there. 
'Twill  strike  us  now  before  we  reach  the  mountain. 
Stay  here  by  j  oily  fires  and  good  dry  halls ; 
Who'd  wander  drenched  among  the  rainy  woods 
Such  nights  as  this  will  be? 

JARED.  Feel  how  the  wind 

Is  rushing  from  the  west.     My  aching  bones 
Do  prophesy  an  evil  night  for  them. 
There  comes  the  thunder. 

JAVAN.  What  a  flash  was  that ! 

It  looked  as  if  the  floor  of  heaven  were  split, 
And  eyes  could  peer  beyond. 

ADAH.  What  lights  are  those 

Which  move  like  spreading  cracks  along  the  sky  ? 
There's  something  strange  abroad.     O  Irad,  stay ! 


38       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

IRAD.    By  heaven,  I've  reasons  such  as  ne'er  were 

man's. 
We  race  with  death.     On,  ere  that  tempest  come ! 

TUBAL.     We  are  not  children;  give  us  reasons 

why, 

And  I'll  ride  with  you  to  the  devil's  jaws. 
Without  them  I'll  not  budge. 

IRAD.  Are  we  alone? 

TUBAL.     No  soul  but  us. 

IRAD.      Then   listen.      As    I    reached   the    town 

to-day, 

Kneeling  in  Niloh's  temple  to  make  prayer 
For  my  success, — 'twas  the  hour,  Tubal-cain, 
When  you  had  left  me  on  your  own  affair, — 
The  high  priest  saw  me  there,  and  drawing  me 
Apart  behind  the  altar  said:  "Young  man, 
I  love  your  family  well,  and  this  you  know ; 
But  there  are  others  here  whose  hate  to  you 
Is  deep  as  is  my  love.     In  Niloh's  name 
I  order  you  and  yours  on  pilgrimage 
To  Himenay's  top ;  and  see  that  you  be  gone 
Before  the  midnight  ring.     If  here  you  stay, 
I  say  not  whether  wrath  of  gods  or  men, 
But  something  you  must  fear." 

JARED.  Ah,  there  it  is. 

I've  watched  them  creeping  into  coil;  and  now 
They'd  strike  on  Niloh's  eve.     Well,  well,  we'll  go. 
Better  the  rain  a-patter  on  our  heads 
Than  daggers  in  our  ribs. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  39 

TUBAL.  Yes,  get  to  horse ! 

To-night  well  ride  for  life ;  but  red  will  be 
Our  reckoning  when  the  fatal  see-saw  turns. 

JARED.    Are  we  provisioned  for  a  siege  like  this  ? 
TUBAL.     The  stores  of  years  are  in  the  temple 

vaults. 

I  RAD.     On,   on!    for   fast   and  dread   are  those 
behind ! 

[Exeunt] 

CURTAIN. 


SCENE  II. 

TIME.     Somewhat  later  on  the  same  night. 
PLACE.     A  ferry  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Himenay. 
[Enter  Javan,  an  attendant,   and  the  ferryman.] 

ATTENDANT.      Here   lies   the   landing;  here   the 

rest  must  gather. 

We'll  hunt  no  more  through  night  and  mud;  wait 
here. 

FERRYMAN.     Then  more  are  coming? 

ATTENDANT.  We  lost  them  in  the  dark. 

Have  you  a  boat  to  ferry  us  to  the  mountain? 

FERRYMAN.     It  lies  below. 

JAVAN.  Go  you  and  see  it  ready. 

I'll  wait  them  here. 

[Exeunt  attendant   and  ferryman.] 

Whom  wait  I  ?     What  are  these, 
My  cousin's  people?     Is  he  one  with  them, 
A  part  of  that  I've  seen?     From  what  wild  forces 
Arose  a  world  so  beauteous  and  so  bad  ? 
Where,  where  and  what  am  I,  and  what  the  future 
That  waits  for  me  and  Irad,  drifting  far 
From  safe  tradition  o'er  uncharted  seas? 
God  of  my  fathers,  reach  me  down  Thy  hand, 
That  I  may  clasp  it  in  the  night.     I  fear. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  41 

[Enter  an  overseer  of  the  farming  district  and  a 
merchant.] 

Is  Irad  come?     Are  ye  his  followers? 

MERCHANT.  Nay. 

OVERSEER.  Nay,  if  by  Irad  you  mean  lord  Irad 
of  the  great  city,  we  come  even  now  from  discard 
ing  his  livery.  Many  a  year  these  estates  were  his 
and  his  mother's  before  him.  They  have  nourished 
his  pleasures  well,  though  they  never  saw  his  face. 
Now  his  reign  is  out;  let  them  serve  the  pleasures 
of  others. 

JAVAN.     These,  then,  are  Irad's  lands  ? 

MERCHANT.  They  were,  sir,  but  are  no  longer. 
For  all  these  ancestral  acres  his  claim  is  forfeited. 
At  sunrise  they're  mine. 

OVERSEER.  You  will  find  them  sadly  dilapidated. 
Nowadays  men  drive  estates,  like  horses,  till  they 
drop.  Present  gain,  present  gladness,  that's  all 
they  think  of;  and  the  accounts  of  the  future  may 
be  settled  by  the  poor  devils  who're  born  then. 

MERCHANT.  Well,  sir,  why  should  not  the  men 
of  the  future  pay  the  bills  of  the  future  ? 

OVERSEER.  Because,  saving  your  worship,  the 
world  doesn't  go  that  way.  Our  fathers  laid  foun 
dation  for  our  prosperity;  and  if  we  lay  none  for 
our  sons,  who  shall? 

MERCHANT.  If  our  fathers  worked  so  hard  to 
make  us  happy,  heaven  forbid  that  we  should  dis- 


42   THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

appoint  them.  The  toil  of  their  vine-dressing  effer 
vesces  in  our  wines ;  the  sweat  of  their  masons  floats 
in  cool  breezes  through  our  summer  villas ;  the  ach 
ing  eyes  of  their  weavers  have  made  the  couch  of 
my  mistress  downy.  Every  pleasure  which  I  deny 
myself  means  that  a  day's  work  of  some  ancestor 
was  done  for  nothing. 

OVERSEER.  Think  of  these  roads  they  built,  these 
dams  and  granaries  of  hewn  stone.  We  use  them 
while  they  last,  and,  instead  of  repairing  them, 
spend  our  surplus  on  baths  and  pavilions.  Yonder 
our  fathers  ditched  morasses  into  meadows;  and 
now  the  children  gulp  down  the  profits  and  let  the 
meadow  sink  back  into  a  morass.  They  are  so 
busy  squandering  money  in  midnight  banquets 
that  they  cannot  stop  for  mending  a  rotten  sluice  to 
preserve  the  patrimony  of  their  children. 

MERCHANT.  'Tis  meadow  yet;  'twill  last  our 
lifetime.  (Aside  to  Javan.)  But  tap  one  of  these 
ancient  barrels  with  hoary  cobwebs  around  its  chin, 
and  out  spurt  the  praises  of  "the  good  old  days." 
(Aloud.)  You  have  a  wide  variety  here  in  your 
farming. 

OVERSEER.  We  raise  everything  which  the  mar 
ket  demands;  all  kinds  of  drugs,  from  lotus  and 
poppy  for  making  your  friend  happy  to  hemlock 
and  strychnine  for  making  your  enemy  sad;  wines 
and  sauces  in  abundance;  and  all  these  other  new 
fangled  notions  which,  after  a  thousand  years  of 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  43 

comfort,  men  have  suddenly  discovered  to  be  neces 
sities  of  life.  Also  our  hillsides  rear  boys  and 
women,  though  they  grow  not  on  stalks;  but  that 
lucrative  industry  is  a  special  perquisite  of  others 
than  the  landlord. 

JAVAN  (aside).  Is  this  the  tillage  which  re 
places  the  sweet  gums  and  orchards  of  Eden? 
(Aloud.)  What  parodies  of  humanity  come  here? 

[Enter  six  laborers.'] 

OVERSEER.  Yonder  men  are  laborers  on  the 
estate. 

MERCHANT.  What  a  dog's  life  is  that !  Why  do 
these  fools  persist  in  living  when  they're  so  cadav 
erous  that  the  light  shines  through  them? 

OVERSEER.  For  the  same  reason  that  your  fine 
nobles  persist  in  living  when  their  nerves  are  so 
racked  with  feasting  that  hell  squirms  through 
them. 

JAVAN.  What  work  can  so  deface  the  body  God 
made  ? 

OVERSEER.  No  two  have  the  same.  The  first 
works  in  the  poppy  fields ;  the  second's  a  mason  on 
the  new  villa ;  the  third  raises  herbs  for  a  sauce ;  the 
fourth  cultivates  silkworms  for  ladies'  mantels; 
and  the  last  two  serve  the  cause  of  art. 

JAVAN.     How  so? 

OVERSEER.    One  of  them  quarries  out  marble  for 


44       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

our  finest  sculptors,  and  the  other  forges  metal  for 
the  best  harps  in  the  city. 

JAVAN.     Did  they  ever  see  statue  or  hear  harp  ? 

OVERSEER.  They  see  nothing  but  work  and 
hear  nothing  but  threats.  How  else  should  I  raise 
my  lord's  revenue? 

JAVAN.  And  how  long  do  they  last  before 
nature  takes  pity  on  them? 

OVERSEER.  Some  three  years,  some  five.  There 
are  plenty  more  when  these  are  gone. 

MERCHANT.  I  confess  that  I  am  never  more 
happy  than  in  the  presence  of  these  wretches;  for 
then,  like  one  whose  fortunes  are  safe  while 
another's  are  burning,  I  thrill  with  the  sense  of  my 
own  blessedness.  What  says  the  song  of  Bahran? 

Life  that  is  pink  in  the  sky  and  the  maiden's  cheek, 

And  the  peach  when  it  flowers, 
Life  that  has  tasted  much  and  has  more  to  seek, 

Is  ours,  is  ours. 

What  the  grudging  old  gods  had  meant   for  the 
many,  distills 

Its  bliss  for  the  few. 

The  vineyards  and  fruits  that  grow  on  a  thousand 
hills 

Are  for  me  and  you. 

Leave  the  bird  in  the  net, 

And  the  bud  o'er  the  scythe; 

Let  the  laborer  sweat, 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  45 

And  the  sufferer  writhe; 
To  the  camel  his  load, 
To  the  Sethite  his  code ; 
But  the  dream  of  the  magic  herb,  and  our  myrtle 

bowers, 
Where  we  eat  of  the  substance  of  others,  are  glad, 

and  forget, 
All  that  Old  Eden  possessed,  and  what  Eden  ne'er 

showed, 
Are  ours,  are  ours. 

Well,  let  us  go  in.  There's  a  fearful  storm 
mustering  overhead;  pray  heaven  it  hurt  not  my 
crops  or  buildings ! 

OVERSEER  (moving  away,  while  a  faint  gleam  of 
light  gives  his  face  a  momentary  likeness  to  a 
death's-head).  I  will  report,  sir,  in  the  morning, 
that  we  may  take  a  survey  of  your  new  property 
together. 

[Exeunt  overseer  and  merchant.] 

JAVAN.     What  men  are  these,  whose  rustic  cots 

have  life 
Wondrous  and  wicked  as  the  town's  itself? 

[He  sits  down  in  a  small  arbor  which  conceals  him 
from  the  center  of  the  scene.] 

The  fatal  hours  run  on,  yet  wherefore  fear? 
Things  worse  there  are  than  death,  that  threaten 
here. 


46       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

FIRST  LABORER.     Ugh!     I'm  tired. 

SECOND  LABORER.     Rain  coming. 

THIRD  LABORER.     Let  it  come. 

FOURTH  LABORER.  Give  me  a  mouthful.  I've 
no  food. 

FIRST  LABORER.     Not  I. 

SECOND  LABORER.     Nor  I. 

THIRD  LABORER.    Every  man  for  himself. 

FOURTH  LABORER.     No  drink  either?     I'm  faint. 

FIRST  LABORER.     None  to  spare. 

FOURTH  LABORER.    I've  worked  day  and  night. 

SECOND  LABORER.     Who  hasn't? 

FOURTH  LABORER.  One  drink,  as  you'd  like  it 
yourself. 

THIRD  LABORER.  Not  I.  Will  your  guzzling 
wet  my  gullet? 

FIFTH  LABORER,     Wild  night  up  there. 

SIXTH  LABORER.    What's  the  difference  to  us  ? 

FIRST  LABORER.     We  work,  rain  or  shine. 

SECOND  LABORER.  Look  there.  (Shows  broken 
hand.) 

THIRD  LABORER.    Well,  what  of  it  ? 

SECOND  LABORER.  That's  what  we  masons  have 
to  work  with. 

FIRST  LABORER.  That's  nothing.  Look  what  we 
do. 

FIFTH  LABORER.     Raise  lotus  and  poppies? 

FIRST  LABORER.  Break  men's  backs  to  put 
gentlemen  dreaming. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  47 

FOURTH  LABORER.     Got  any  lotus  ? 

FIRST  LABORER.  Some  I  stole.  No,  you  don't 
get  it. 

THIRD  LABORER.  And  we  kill  ourselves  to  make 
a  sauce. 

SIXTH  LABORER.     What  for? 

THIRD  LABORER.     To  make  gentlemen  hungry. 

FOURTH  LABORER.    Let  them  fast. 

SECOND  LABORER.  Not  they;  they're  always 
feasting. 

THIRD  LABORER.  And  the  sauce  keeps  them 
healthy  and  hungry. 

FIFTH  LABORER.  Yes,  and  poor  men  starve  a 
year  to  get  them  one  meal  of  birds'  tongues. 

THIRD  LABORER.    That  what  you  do  ? 

FIFTH  LABORER.  Not  now.  Working  in  quarry. 
See  there.  (Shows  scars.) 

SIXTH  LABORER.     Stone  for  building? 

FIFTH  LABORER.    No,  statues. 

FOURTH  LABORER.     One  leaf  of  poppy? 

FIRST  LABORER.  Get  out!  Can't  you  earn  your 
own  supper? 

FOURTH  LABORER.  I  ought  to.  I  work  hard 
enough. 

FIRST  LABORER.     Doing  what? 

FOURTH  LABORER.  Weaving  silk  mantels.  I'm 
going  blind  at  it. 

SIXTH  LABORER.     So  am  I. 

SECOND  LABORER.     What,  working  in  the  forge? 


48       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

SIXTH  LABORER.     Yes,  the  glare  burns  my  eyes. 

THIRD  LABORER.  Ugh,  I  dreamed  I  was  a  lord 
last  night. 

FIRST  LABORER.     The  more  fool  you. 

THIRD  LABORER.  Kept  others  working  while  I 
feasted.  'Twas  fine. 

FIFTH  LABORER.     Dreams  go  by  contraries. 

THIRD  LABORER.  Thought  I  got  angry  and 
killed  two  of  them. 

SIXTH  LABORER.     Look  out  or  they'll  kill  you. 

SECOND  LABORER.     Much  he'd  care  or  any  of  us. 

FIRST  LABORER.  That's  right.  What  good's  life 
to  us? 

FOURTH  LABORER.  If  I  could  only  go  to  sleep 
to-night  and  know  I'd  never  wake  up  again,  I'd  be 
happy. 

SIXTH  LABORER.     So  would  I. 

THIRD  LABORER.  Only  I  wish  the  rich  could  die 
too  to  make  things  even. 

FIFTH  LABORER.  No  hope  of  that.  Come,  we'll 
crawl  off  to  our  kennels. 

SIXTH  LABORER.  And  to  work  again  in  the 
morning. 

[Exeunt  laborers.     Enter  Irad,   Tubal-cain,  Adah 
and  ferryman.] 

FERRYMAN.  Be  not  angry,  sir ;  'tis  a  slight  delay. 
We  had  not  dreamed  that  any  would  tempt  the 
ferry  to-night. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  49 

TUBAL.  Sit  down,  man,  and  be  calm.  We  have 
driven  as  if  Panic  were  our  jockey.  Your  lunatic 
haste  will  mean  nothing  but  final  delay.  To  brain 
our  guide  for  misleading  us, — that  is  a  hopeful  way 
of  making  speed. 

IRAD.  Ah,  you  know  not  what  Terror  pursues 
me.  But  indeed  I  meant  not  to  kill  him. 

FERRYMAN.  Step  within,  sirs,  and  be  sheltered. 
The  boat  will  be  here  in  a  moment. 

[Exeunt  all  except  Irad  and  Adah.  They  seat 
themselves  near  the  arbor,  in  which  Javan 
remains  unseen.] 

IRAD,     Nay,  Adah,  stay  with  me ;  this  bench  for 

us. 

Love  keeps  apart  and  private.     Twine  our  fingers. 
We  plunge  in  darkness ;  and  we'll  feel,  like  children, 
Less  frightened  hand  in  hand. 

ADAH.  How  black  it  grows, 

How  wild  o'erhead !    Strange  air  for  Niloh's  night. 
Thy  flesh  is  cold  that  should  be  warm  with  love. 
Is't  weariness  or  fear? 

IRAD.  Press  closer,  love ; 

Let  thy  warm  bosom  beat  away  my  fear. 
What  think'st  thou,  Adah — if  our  death  be  nigh, 
Is  life  beyond  the  grave? 

ADAH.  Oh,  far  beyond 

Our  quick,  warm  youth  the  grave.  Why  should  we 
vex 


50       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

Our  soul  for  what's  beyond  that  dim  beyond? 
Here  grow  the  flowers  of  love  to-night,  and  thus 
I  pluck  them  while  they  bloom. 

I  RAD.  May  they  be  green 

In  memory  long.     But  sleepless  visions  here, 
Upleaping  from  the  downy  present,  pace 
The  cold,  dark,  echoing  future. 

ADAH.  Morbid  fancies. 

Recall  that  nursery  rime  the  children  sing: 

The  present  is  a  festal  bark, 
In  which  we  float  o'er  waters  dark. 
While  in  the  present  still  we  dwell 
The  banquet  waits  and  all  is  well. 
When  from  the  present  forth  we  leap 
We  drown  in  ocean  strange  and  deep. 

We'll  change  our  theme.     My  too  forgetful  lover 
Did  never  ask  me  how  the  moments  fled 
When  he  was  absent. 

IRAD.  Let  me  hear  thee  tell; 

'Twill  charm  my  gloom  away. 

ADAH.  Long  every  hour 

Unshared  with  thee,  and  sad.     I  never  knew 
How  mournful  harp  and  flute,  how  empty  seem 
The  marble  hallway  and  the  echoing  stair 
Till  then.     And  waking  lonely,  I  have  often 
Clasped  the  cold  moonlight  reaching  out  for  thee, 
Pressed  my  warm  bosom  on  the  chilly  paving, 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  51 

And  buried  in  the  unresponsive  night 
The  kiss  that  begged  return. 

IRAD.  No  more  thou  shalt ; 

Forgive  me,  love.    Were  all  thy  kindred  kind? 
Were  wealth  and  comfort  yours  ? 

ADAH.  Unbounded  wealth, 

All  ancient  Elmin  owned ;  for  Elmin's  dead, 
And  we  his  heirs. 

IRAD.  Old  age  has  claimed  him  then? 

ADAH.     It  might  be  age,  or  else  an  ointed  gown 
My  brother  gave  him  when  he  lived  too  long. 
I  never  asked,  not  I.     You  shudder,  dear; 
Is  it  the  damp  night  wind? 

IRAD.  No,  no,  go  on. 

ADAH.     But  bitter   'twas  to  watch  the  love  of 

others, 

Happy  while  I  was  loveless ;  when  dim  night 
Barred  out  the  world's  intrusion,  to  remember 
What  was  and  what  might  be.     Eldanah's  palace 
Lay  next  to  ours.     He  and  his  gentle  lady 
Were  glad  as  once  were  we. 

IRAD.  Did  not  Eldanah, 

For  so  I  heard,  wed  his  own  daughter? 

ADAH.  Yes. 

Why  not  ?     'Tis  common  now.     They  grew  together 
Like  bough  and  bud.     Heaven  willed  it. 

IRAD  (aside).  Did  it  so? 

And  what  said  Noah  then,  and  Noah's  God  ? 


52       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

ADAH.     True  love  was  that.     They  prized  each 

other  dearly; 

And  when  he  perished,  murdered,  none  know  how, 
His  daughter  pined  and  died,  and  sleeps  with  him. 

IRAD.     Know'st  thou  what  Noah  would  have  told 

thee,  Adah, 
Had  he  but  heard? 

ADAH.  I  half  believe  I  know. 

IRAD.      He   would    have   said   like   breath    from 

charnels  blew 

Through  thy  dear  lips  the  life  that  God  forbade ; 
And,  quoting  God,  had  told  what  murder  means, 
And  incest;  what  dread  ripples  roll  from  them, 
Which  make  them  crime.     He'd  ask  how  you  so 

calmly 

Could  plaster  o'er  the  stain  of  blood,  and  paint 
The  bridal  blush  on  love's  unnatural  leer. 

ADAH.     And  would  his  whilom  pupil  say  it  too  ? 

IRAD.     I  might,  but  words  are  breath. 

ADAH.  Hast  thou  unlearned 

Thy  former  life  ?     Hadst  thou  been  Elmin's  heir, 
Poor,  one  old  man  between  thy  hopes  and  thee, 
And  he  the  man  of  men  thy  soul  did  hate, 
Here  tedious  prose  and  his  triumphant  sneer, 
And  there  delight  and  revel  and  revenge, — 
Would  Elmin  live?     Couldst  thou  not  hear  the  call 
Of  life  and  freedom  summoning  to  enjoy? 
Already  thou  hast  heard  it,  at  its  call 
Shed  Enoch's  blood,  as  others  that  of  Elmin. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  53 

[Javan  starts  violently.] 
Or  had  I  been  thy  daughter,  dear  as  now, 
Would'st  thou  inquire  what   fountain  poured   the 

wave 
That  cooled  thy  thirst?     Oh,  you  have  learned  by 

heart 

Some  parrot  words;  but  look  on  life  itself 
As  these  beheld  it ;  glad  are  Elmin's  heirs, 
Sweet  was  Eldanah's  love.    Wilt  thou  recant 
The  creed  of  years  ?     Canst  thou  not  feel  as  I  ? 

IRAD.     And  if  I  could,  God  give  me  strength  to 

keep 
That  feeling  ever  dumb! 

ADAH.  Again  you  shudder, 

As  though  with  fear. 

IRAD.  Know  you  the  fairy  tale 

We  heard  as  children,  how  a  mermaid  dwelt 
With  men  till  she  grew  human?     But  one  day, 
On  the  blue  edge  of  ocean,  while  she  heard 
Its  far^  unearthly  music  calling,  calling, 
The  strange  old  longing  of  the  deep  came  back, 
And  drew  her  downward,  half  as  mermaid  longing 
For  that  dim  fatherland,  and  half  as  mortal 
Afraid  to  drown.     And  while  she  felt  the  waters 
Roll  deeper,  deeper  as  they  claimed  her,  then 
She  shuddered  too. 

ADAH.  But  yet  became  a  mermaid. 

IRAD.     No,  there  the  story  halted.    If  I  tell  it 
To  son  of  mine,  how  shall  I  end  it,  how? 


54       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

[Unnoticed  by  them,  Javan  steals  from  the  arbor, 
and  moves  to  the  other  side  of  the  scene,  where 
he  meets  an  attendant.] 

JAVAN.    Are  you  lord  Irad's  man  ? 

ATTENDANT.  I  am. 

JAVAN.  I  pray  you, 

If  he  shall  ask  you  for  a  friend  called  Javan, 
Tell  him  these  words  of  mine :  There  is  a  legend 
That  Lucifer  and  Michael  love  each  other, 
But  never  meet  nor  can,  so  clash  and  jar 
The  adverse  worlds  in  which  they  move;  and  I 
Love  Irad  ever,  but  we  meet  no  more. 
Goodby.     I  ride  for  Noah's  mountain. 

ATTENDANT.  Stay, 

My  youthful  lord.     The  night  is  wild ;  ere  dawn 
Streams  will  be  freshets  and  the  bridges  lost. 
You  risk  your  life  to  go. 

JAVAN.  I  dare  not  stay. 

If  fortune  aid  me  I  shall  live  to-morrow. 
But  if  I  die,  and  future  ages  know 
Three  sons  of  Noah  only,  better  that 
Than  what  is  here.    Forget  not  thou  my  message. 

[He  moves  on  and  vanishes  in  the  darkness.  Enter 
Tubal-cain  and  ferryman.] 

TUBAL.    The  boat  is  ready.    But  by  my  advice 
Here  shall  we  bide.     I  never  viewed  a  sky 
Like  that  to  westward.    Come  but  here  and  look. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  55 

Earth  seems  not  earth  beneath  it.     Here  are  herds 
men, 

Who  swear  the  sea  is  loose,  and  tidal  waves 
Abroad  on  inland  plains.     Hark !  was  that  thunder, 
Or  earthquake's  rumble? 

FERRYMAN.  Yonder  cloud  will  burst, 

A  liquid  avalanche.     Mark  the  sapling  crouch, 
The  lake  blown  into  white-caps.     Rushing  mist 
Rides  up  the  peak  before  us.    You  are  mad 
To  journey  further. 

IRAD.  Those  are  mad  who  stay. 

Death  gallops  fast  behind  our  heels.     Away! 

(Exeunt.) 
CURTAIN. 


ACT  III. 

TIME.  The  small  hours  of  the  morning  on  the 
same  night. 

PLACE.  A  cave  part  way  up  Mount  Himenay. 
It  is  dark,  save  for  the  faint  gleam  of  lightning  that 
comes  through  the  entrance.  A  fearful  uproar, 
though  somewhat  muffled,  is  heard  from  without.  A 
narrow  passage  winds  back  into  further  recesses  of 
the  cave ;  and  from  here  comes  the  noise  of  fighting 
and  dying  groans. 

Enter  Mizraim  from  the  passage,  as  if  in  fear. 
He  hides  in  a  cleft  of  the  rock.  Enter  a 
wounded  man,  who  falls  with  a  groan  and  dies. 
The  noise  within  grows  less,  and  is  wholly  lost 
in  the  roar  of  the  storm.  Then  enter  from 
without  Irad  carrying  Adah,  Tubal-cain,  Jared 
carried  by  servants  f  and  several  attendants.  ] 

IRAD.     Hello! 

OTHERS.  Hello ! 

IRAD.  A  cave.     Turn  in  and  halt. 

AN  ATTENDANT.     This  rain  is  more  than  human 

strength  can  bear. 

It  weighs  us  down  like  pushing  hands.     My  god ! 
How  good  it  seems  to  rest !    Will  nothing  lift 
This  blinding  bandage  of  the  night? 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  57 

TUBAL.  A  torch. 

Be  careful  there ;  the  wind  will  blow  it  out. 

IRAD.    More  torches,  quick,  beneath  this  boulder's 

lee. 

Hold  one  above  her  face ;  I  think  she  swooned. 
Stand  over  it ;  the  air  comes  eddying  down, 
And  makes  it  flare. 

AN  ATTENDANT.  It  blows  a  hurricane. 

ANOTHER  ATTENDANT.     What  awful  medley  of 

unearthly  sounds 

Is  that  keeps  rolling  from  the  plain  below 
Through   this    blind   horror?      Oh,    for   one   short 

glimpse 

Of  what  earth  looks  like  now !     The  very  flashes 
Are  drowned  in  rain,  one  solid  mass  of  blackness. 
What's   that   which  happens   down   below?      Who 

tells? 
IRAD.      Here,   fold   my   cloak  together   for   her 

pillow, 

And  give  me  yours  to  wrap  her.    Bring  some  wine. 
She  stirs;  her  eyes  are  opening. 

ADAH.  Where  am  I? 

IRAD.     Safe  here  with  me ;  we're  on  Mount  Him- 

enay. 

ADAH.     Is  the  rain  ended? 

IRAD.  No,  we're  in  a  cave. 

JARED.     Hark,  Irad,  Tubal-cain,  do  you  not  hear 
Through  all  the  rushing  of  the  storm,  and  splash 
Of  driving  water  ?    Hark,  what  sounds  are  those  ? 


58       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

I  RAD.    You're  happy  not  to  know. 

TUBAL  (going  to  the  entrance).     More  fast  and 

keen 

It  lightens;  now  well  tell  what  floods  are  loose. 
There  comes  a  flash  would  light  the  ocean  bed 
Through  solid  brine,  and  shows — 

JARED.  What,  what?     (No  answer.) 

Speak,  man. 

IRAD  (going  to  entrance).     All  black  again.     I'll 
tell  you  when  it  comes. 

JARED.      There,   there!     That   peal   was   like   a 

crashing  world. 

You  must  have  seen*  (Pause.)     Speak,  Irad,  where 
are  you? 

IRAD.   I'm  at  thy  side;  and,  as  for  what  I've  seen, 
Bless  Heaven  that  made  thee  blind. 

JARED.  Thy  voice  is  hollow, 

Like  breath  from  Horror's  chamber.     Where's  thy 

hand  ? 
'Tis  Irad's  hand.     Go  on. 

IRAD.  Before  I  fled 

From  Noah's  tent,  they  told  me,  and  confirmed, 
No  matter  how,  that  that  dread  God  of  theirs, 
Incensed  at  earth  for  His  neglected  shrine, 
Prepared  to-night  to  drown  the  world.     I  fled ; 
And  with  such  frail  excuse  as  time  allowed 
By  lies  have  led  you  up  this  mountain  peak, 
And  saved  you  so.     For  know  that  Noah's  God 
Has  kept  His  word.     Already  fathoms  deep, 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  59 

And  deeper  every  moment,  whirl  the  floods 
O'er  Nod  and  all  its  people. 

JARED.  You  are  mad! 

Speak,  friends,  where  are  you  all?     It  cannot  be. 
Oh,  for  one  hour  of  blessed  sight  to  know 
What  things  and  whom  to  trust ! 

IRAD.  Can  you  not  hear? 

Is  that  dread  sound  that  slowly  gathering  grows 
Aught  that  you  ever  heard  in  life  before? 

TUBAL.      'Tis  true,  old  man.     What   forces  are 

at  work 
Let  priests  inquire ;  but  all  the  world  is  sea. 

ADAH.    Where  art  thou,  Irad  ?    What  alarms  you 
all? 

IRAD.      Say   nothing   yet.      {To   Adah.)      Rest, 

dear,  we  all  are  safe. 

'Tis  a  wild  night,  and  tragic  things,  I  fear, 
Have  happened  elsewhere;  but  they  touch  not  us. 

ADAH.     The  hour  of  love  has  rung.     We'll  build 

our  bower 

In  some  dim  grotto  winding  far  within. 
Hast  thou  forgot  what  hallowed  night  is  this, 
Made  doubly  dear  by  waiting? 

IRAD.  Nay,  but  years 

Remain  for  that;  postpone  all  pleasure  now. 
O  Adah,  this  has  been  a  fearful  night; 
And  dying  groans  are  floating  up  the  sky 
As  thick  as  rain. 

ADAH.  But  we,  we  are  alive. 


60       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

IRAD.     I'm  sick  at  heart.     Nay,  Adah,  talk  no 

more 

Of  love  to-night,  but  tend  me  as  a  nurse, 
That,  lapsing  back  to  childhood,  I  may  lose 
All  memory  of  the  present. 

ADAH.  What  strange  mood 

Is  this  on  Niloh's  eve  ?    Yet  have  your  will, 
For,  truth,  your  eyes  are  lit  with  fever's  gleam. 
Untimely  thoughts  are  there,  like  stars  of  night 
In  wells  at  noonday.     Rest,  111  be  thy  nurse. 

\Tubal-cain  in  examining  the  cave  discovers  Miz- 
raim.  ] 

TUBAL.     Who's  here? 

MIZRAIM.  Oh,  mercy,  grant  me  mercy,  sir! 

TUBAL.      Come   here   and   show  your    face.      A 

stripling  boy. 

Why  skulk  these  dainty  limbs  in  such  a  den 
On  night  as  wild  as  this  ? 

MIZRAIM.  But  spare  my  life. 

TUBAL.    Perhaps  I  will  when  thou  canst  show  me 

cause. 

March  here  between  the  torches,  full  in  view, 
In  our  mid  circle.     Throw  thy  weapon  down. 
And  now  be  prompt  and  pointed  when  I  ask. 
First  then,  your  name. 

MIZRAIM.  Mizraim. 

TUBAL.  Your  parents  who  ? 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  61 

MIZRAIM.      None   know  but   Niloh,   from  whose 
rites  I  sprung. 

TUBAL.    A  goodly  pedigree,  yea,  common  too 
In  our  abstemious  race.     How  came  you  here? 

MIZRAIM.      I  marched  among  the  rebel  host  of 

late. 

And  when  our  army  broke  and  scattered  wide 
Before  Togarmah,  here  the  remnant  fled, 
A  handful  merely.     Here  the  others  died 
This  very  night,  and  I  was  left  alone. 

TUBAL.    How  died  they  all? 

MIZRAIM.  In  quarrel  o'er  the  spoil, 

Which  rose  at  feast  when  heads  were  hot  with  wine. 
Perhaps  you  doubt  my  word ;  then  come  with  me 
Down  yonder  passage.     There  youll  find  them  all 
Still  palpitating,  warm,  nay,  some  in  whom 
Yet  lingers  life. 

TUBAL.  Go  on,  I  follow  thee, 

My  knife  against  thy  neck.     Deceive  me  not. 

[Exeunt   Tubal-cain  and  Mizraim.~\ 

IRAD.     Draw  back  in  darkness. 

ADAH.  Why  unsheathe  your  blade, 

And  point  your  j  avelin  at  that  line  of  light  ? 
The  dead  are  harmless. 

IRAD.  And  the  living,  liars. 

Behind  me,  love ;  I  would  not  for  the  world 
Have  ill  betide  thee. 

ADAH.  Thou  art  brave  and  strong; 


62       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

And  Tubal-cain  is  of  the  giants  old. 
Why  need  we  fear? 

IRAD.  I  fear  not  for  myself. 

God  bless  thee,  Adah.     Ne'er  till  danger's  hour 
Knew  I  how  dear  I  held  thee.     Here  they  come. 

[Re-enter  Tubal-cain  and  MizraimJ\ 

TUBAL.     Well,  such  is  human  folly.     There  they 

lie 

Amid  the  wealth  they  died  for,  piled  like  logs 
In  rotten  woodlands,  every  fool  in  turn 
A  murderer  and  a  victim. 

JARED.  All  are  dead? 

TUBAL.    Some  dead,  some  dying,  all  past  mischief 
now. 

IRAD.     Methought  I  heard  them  groan.     'Twere 

mercy's  part 
To  ease  their  dying  hours. 

TUBAL.  Nay,  let  them  lie ; 

They're  nought  to  us.     Now,  sir,  come  here  again. 
I  fought  with  those  before  Togarmah's  fort, 
Your  adversary  there.    What  blight  came  down 
To  shrivel  up  your  fine  array  so  fast  ? 
We  looked  defeat  in  the  face ;  and,  presto !  change ! 
Our  dread  snow-man  had  melted. 

MIZRAIM.  Those  rich  valleys 

Were  too  indulgent  for  a  soldier's  life. 
And  drinking  deep  all  joys  of  nature  there, 
We  lost  our  pith  and  edge;  found  pleasure  soft, 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  63 

Ambition  hard  and  foolish;  passed  the  word 
From  ear  to  ear,  till  our  whole  host  became 
A  martial  farce,  a  flimsy,  painted  cloth, 
Which  war's  first  rumor  blew  to  tatters. 

TUBAL.  So. 

A  set  of  puny  boys,  whom  pleasure  melts 
Like  ice  in  August.    We  old  veterans,  too, 
We  had  our  joys;  but  we  could  stand  the  pace. 
Yet,  half  our  army  being  young  like  you, 
Had  you  but  charged  that  night  instead  of  fleeing, 
You  had  found  us  rotten  ramparts.     Such  is  life. 
WTell,  sit  you  there.     Well  give  you  orders  later. 

IRAD.     Is  this  the  nation  of  the  giants,  Nod, 
Whose  armies,  like  colliding  thunder-clouds, 
Jarred  earth  in  meeting  ?     Have  we  fallen  to  this  ? 

TUBAL.     Oh,  we  have  warriors  yet  can  whack  a 

helmet, 

Old  hoary-heads;  but  these  green  boys  are  fog. 
Just  sixty  years  ago  that  very  field 
Saw  such  a  shocking  where  our  armies  clashed 
As  would  have  stunned  them  with  its  noise  alone. 

[Enter  from  without  Iban  and  several   revelers.~\ 

I  BAN.      If   ye   be   men   whom   e'er    compunction 

touched, 

Beauty,  or  love  of  art,  receive  us  kindly. 
I  am  the  poet  Iban,  these  my  friends, 
Shipwrecked  but  now  against  this  mountain's  base, 


64       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

Half  dead  from  bruising  rock  and  pounding  wave, 
And  rain  that  weighs  like  lead. 

IRAD.  'Tis  he  himself. 

Welcome,  old  friend,  familiar  faces  here 
You  see,  and  kindred  bosoms. 

IBAN.  Praise  the  gods  ! 

What,  Irad,  Tubal-cain,  can  this  be  true? 
The  muses  guard  their  own. 

TUBAL.  Sit  down,  sit  down. 

You're  white  and  pant  like  deer. 

IBAN.  Have  ye  a  fire? 

I've  ocean  dripping  from  my  back;  and  all 
The  clouds  of  heaven  have  soaked  me. 

IRAD.  Nought  but  torches. 

MIZRAIM.     So  please  you,  sir,  within  the  further 

cave 

Is  fuel  plenty.     Only  give  the  word, 
This  crevice  was  our  fireplace. 

IRAD.  Quickly  then. 

[Mizraim  brings  out  fuel  from  within  and  starts  a 
fire.] 

IBAN.     What  boy  is  that? 

IRAD.  Last  of  a  bandit  gang ; 

The  rest  have  killed  each  other. 

IBAN.  What's  his  future? 

Do  you  adopt  him  ? 

IRAD.  'Twas  but  now  we  found  him. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  65 

TUBAL.      Nay,   no  adopting  waif   and   stranger 

here 

To  load  us  down.     We'll  use  his  wits  to-night, 
To-morrow  end  him. 

JARED.  Ay,  the  simplest  way. 

We've  servants  all  we  need. 

IRAD.  Now  God  forbid ! 

Is  he  not  human,  feeling  joy  and  grief 
To  which  our  natures  echo,  kindred  man  ? 

TUBAL.      Why,  yes,   he  has   a  heart,  a   pair  of 

lungs, 

Like  us  or  wolves  or  jackals.     What  of  that? 
He'll  profit  nought  to  me ;  if  you  enj  oy  him, 
Why,  keep  him  then. 

JARED.  'Twill  be  another  mouth. 

Why  stint  our  guests  and  us  for  God  knows  who  ? 

IRAD.     Is  there  no  joy  in  grateful  eyes,  no  pang 
In  dying  groans,  when  dreams  identify 
Our  lives  with  those  we  mold? 

TUBAL.  Why  should  there  be? 

This  comes  from  Noah,  sounds  like  old  wives'  tales 
Of  amputated  stumps  and  aching  limbs. 

IBAN.     Ay,  Noah's  folly.     Sweeter  far  is  love 
When  focused  warm,  intense  in  narrow  ring, 
Than  thus  diffused. 

TUBAL.  "Glad  homes,"  the  proverb  says, 

"Are  lined  with  love  and  moated  round  with  blood." 

IBAN.     Friend,  favorite,  mistress,  these  are  magic 
words ; 


66       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

Outside, — what  matters  ?     Yet  this  boy  is  fair ; 
And  beauty  is  too  rare  and  hardly  won 
For  reckless  usage.     Let  us  keep  him  still. 

JARED.     Ay,  now  you  mention  it,  his  step  is  light, 
And  soft  his  voice  as  woman's.     Fair,  you  say. 
Would  I  could  see  him. 

TUBAL.  Ah,  our  reverend  friend 

Begins  to  feel  the  spell  of  Niloh's  mount. 

JARED.        Come     hither,     lad.        (Mizraim     ap 
proaches.)     Thou'rt  comely,  I  am  told. 
The  only  eyes  which  blindness  has  are  these, 
That  yet  would  view  thy  beauty.  {Feels  his  face.) 

Every  line 

Like  chiseled  marble ;  and  this  healthy  warmth 
Declares  the  blush  of  youth.  I  like  thee  well. 
What  say'st  thou,  lad?  Wilt  thou  be  friends  with 

me, 

The  solace  of  my  age,  as  Bahran's  boy 
Was  joy  to  him? 

MIZRAIM    (with  a  quick  glance  around).     Yea, 
sir,  if  so  you  will. 

IRAD.     Sir,  I  implore  you,  let  this  matter  wait. 
In  hourly  danger  still,  no  time  have  we 
For  aught  but  vigilance  to  save  our  lives. 
Our  safety's  first  of  all. 

TUBAL.  The  lad  is  right. 

All  things  in  proper  time.  Hear  reason,  man. 
And  you,  gay  youngster,  shall  be  butler  here, 
For  your  dead  band  had  cellars.  Come  with  me. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  67 

[During  the  following  dialogue  between  Irad  and 
Iban,  Mizraim  and  the  attendants,  under  the 
direction  of  Tubal-cainf  bring  in  from  the 
further  cavern  an  extemporized  banquet  table, 
and  load  it  with  all  the  paraphernalia  belong 
ing  to  a  splendid  feast.] 

IBAN  (aside  to  Irad}.  A  sickening  offer,  dotage 

wooing  fear, 

And  profanation  of  that  tender  tie 
For  which  poor  Bahran  died. 

IRAD  (aside  to  Iban).  The  scene  fits  well 

With  that  outside.     If  eyes  above  look  down 
What  thoughts  must  be  in  heaven. 

IBAN.  Yea,  the  gods 

Will  smile  behind  the  scenes.     Yet,  after  all, 
So  dear  the  hours  of  youth  and  young  delight, 
Who'd  blame  the  old,  though  loth  to  let  them  go  ? 

IRAD.    How  shall  I  judge  a  man  who  callous  thus, 
Yea,  o'er  the  deathbed  of  his  fatherland, 
Affronts  both  God  and  nature's  whispering  law  ? 
And  this  but  sample  of  a  lifetime  gone, 
As  well  I  know. 

Yet  not  through  blood  alone  but  deeper  ties 
He  bids  me  pause  in  judgment.     That  gray  beard 
Has  wagged  above  my  boyhood's  play,  and  drooped 
Tear-drenched  o'er  beds  of  fever.     Hours  I've  sat 
Perched    on    his    knee,    while    we    like    statesmen 
weighed 


68       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

The  worth  of  hobby-horses,  balls,  and  drums. 
Tin  catapults  and  bastions.     Then  in  youth 
My  exploits  made  him  weep  with  joy;  he'd  cheer  me 
Did  I  compete  for  prize  in  dance  or  song, 
And  hang  the  tiger's  pelt  with  golden  claws 
Because  his  boy  had  killed  it.    Gracious  heaven ! 
When  thus  the  flower  and  stinking  weed  entwine, 
Which  shall  we  count  the  man  ? 

IBAN.  You're  too  severe. 

View  human  follies  close  with  candid  eye, 
Not  thus  through  Noah's  twisted  lens,  you'll  find 
The  sin  that  plucks  an  apple  through  a  fence 
Is  venial,  ay,  and  universal  too. 
The  strife  'twixt  law  and  longing  sweetens  life, 
And  there  romance  is  born. 

I  RAD.  So  once  thought  I. 

I  had  begun  to  reason  otherwise. 

IBAN.     This  mystery  life  is  like  a  lovely  girl, 
Who  cries,  "You  shall  not,"  when  she  hopes  you 

will, 

Rewards  the  bold  transgressor  well,  and  chills 
Sheep-eyed  Obedience  with  her  frosty  praise. 
And  toward  her  genial  warmth  I  stretch  my  hands, 
As  toward  this  welcome  flame. 

TUBAL.  Now,  gentle  friends, 

Our  neighbors  having  piled  our  board,  and  then 
By  opportune  demise  removed  themselves, 
We'll  banquet  even  here. 

IRAD.  What!  here  a  feast! 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  69 

IBAN.     The  gods  be  praised!  ne'er  needed  like 

to-night. 

Here's  food  to  cheer  the  faint,  and  kindly  wine 
To  laugh  our  horrors  down. 

TUBAL.  Be  seated  all. 

THE  REVELERS.     On  Niloh's  mount  the  god  pro 
vides  his  own. 

TUBAL.     One  place  is  vacant. 

IBAN.  Why  does  Irad  wait  ? 

IRAD.    Go  on  nor  notice  me;  I'm  not  in  mood 
For  revelry  to-night. 

TUBAL.  Nay,  come,  lad,  come. 

What  sullen  devil  lurks  in  you  of  late  ? 

IBAN.     Your  empty  place  will  haunt  us,  like  the 

chair 

In  Bahran's  lay.     Come,  you  look  dark  as  men 
Who  weigh  some  tragic  matter  pro  and  con. 
The  sadder  earth,  the  more  we  need  what  cheers. 
Sit  down  and  laugh  with  us. 

IRAD.  I'm  not  in  mood. 

ADAH.    Art  thou  in  mood  to  please  a  lady's  wish, 
And  one  to  whom  thou  owest  grace  as  well 
For  cold  refusal  past  ?     Shall  I  alone 
Have  emptiness  for  partner  ?     Noble  sir, 
I  do  entreat  thy  company  at  feast. 

IRAD.    Hast  thou  forgot  what  night  it  is  ? 

ADAH.  Nay,  nay, 

'Tis  thou  forgettest;  this  is  Niloh's  night. 
Be  earth  undone ;  but  let  our  rosy  ring 


70       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

Be  pleasure's  magic  circle,  friendship's,  love's; 
On  that  enchanted  ground  no  noxious  thing 
Intrude,  or  painful  thought.    Two  talismans 
I  offer  thee,  of  power  to  make  this  den 
Appear  a  palace,  we  the  king  and  queen. 
The  one  this  cup  contains ;  perchance  my  lip 
Might  hold  the  other. 

IRAD.  How  thou  gildest  o'er 

What  seemed  corruption.    Which  the  trulier  sees, 
The  eye  bewitched  by  Noah  or  by  thee  ? 

ADAH.     Which  one,  indeed?     Be  thou  impartial 

judge. 

And  if  thou  deem'st  my  magic  more  than  his, 
Be  pleased  to  come  with  me. 

I  RAD.  Ah,  well,  I  yield. 

Thy  witchery's  more,  be  wisdom  where  it  will. 

IBAN.      A  toast,   a  toast!  the  victor  comes   and 

brings 
Her  captive  train  behind. 

ALL.  A  toast,  a  toast! 

IBAN.    Pour,  servant,  pour.    The  night  may  rave 

without ; 

What  care  we  now  how  leap  and  howl  beneath 
The  baffled  hounds  of  ocean  ? 

REVELERS.  Doubly  sweet 

Is  safety  after  danger. 

IBAN.  Ay,  it  is. 

This  warms  the  blood.     I  shudder  when  I  think, 
Had  I  remained  below,  what  cold  blue  hand 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  71 

Had  drawn  my  morning  curtains,  and  what  face 
Peered  in  on  mine. 

IRAD.  Who  brought  you  safely  here? 

IBAN.    A  power  that  willed  not  Cain  should  cease 

to  be. 

The  lure  of  ocean  drew  us.     Three  whole  days 
We  sailed  the  main,  while  like  a  sounding  shell 
Our  vessel  rang  with  music.     Then  arose 
This  awful  storm  that  hurled  the  sea  on  land, 
And  us  therewith,  swept  o'er  the  drowned  domain, 
The  billows'  plaything.     Last  on  rocks  below, 
Once  inland  cliff  but  now  the  ocean's  edge, 
We  dashed  and  shattered.    Yet  such  grace  was  ours 
From  god  in  love  with  art,  or  pitying  muse, 
Entire  our  band  were  saved,  though  all  the  rest, 
Page,  woman,  slave,  and  brawny  seaman,  drowned. 

IRAD.     Not  one  of  all  your  number  gone  ? 

IBAN.  Not  one, 

Though  ne'er  alive  through  such  a  boiling  foam, 
Methinks,  came  man  before. 

IRAD.  A  priest  would  deem 

Some  special  providence  of  gods  indeed 
Had  held  you  worthy  saving. 

IBAN.  Yea,  for  we, 

Though  humble  lamps,  preserved  the  ancient  flame 
That  ocean  else  had  quenched. 

IRAD.  I  drink  to  thee, 

Whom-  powers  inscrutable  have  chosen  thus 
Ambassador  from  former  worlds  to  new. 


72       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

Drink  deep;  I'll  drink  with  thee,  till  in  the  cup 
We  find  thy  message  for  the  men  unborn. 

FIRST  REVELER.    Peace,  peace,  ye  yelping  clouds. 

Have  we  no  harp 
Of  power  to  drown  their  discord  ? 

SECOND  REVELER,  Sheathe  your  fires, 

Ye  hunters  of  the  night ;  the  game  is  flown. 

THIRD   REVELER.     Let  ocean  bellow,  while  the 

mountain  laughs, 
And  makes  its  rage  a  foot-bath. 

IRAD  (aside).  Yet  one  sound 

Ye  cannot  hush  nor  mock,  the  kindred  cry, 
Now  shrill  as  if  beneath  the  murderer's  blow, 
Now  myriad-voiced  in  ocean.     Fill  the  bowl. 
These  others  drink  and  hear  it  not.     Drink  thou. 
For  ne'er  till  abstinence  unbraced  thine  ear 
Heard'st  thou  or  heeded. 

ADAH.  Fearful  must  have  been 

The  scenes  you  witnessed,  Iban,  sailing  thus 
O'er  what  was  happening  yonder. 

IBAN.  Fearful,  strange. 

I  know  not  whether  theme  of  future  verse, 
Or  memory  dread  to  paralyze  all  song 
In  me  forever.    Dim  and  foggy  broke 
That  fatal  morning.     Sultry  heaven  sucked 
The  moisture  of  the  deep  in  rolling  mist, 
That  steamed  aloft  unceasing,  wall  on  wall, 
To  one  gray  roof.     There  all  day  long  we  rowed 
Through  cloudy  corridors,  down  whispering  aisles, 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  73 

Whose  waters  murmured  low,  like  multitudes 
When  hushed  in  some   great  awe.      But  close  on 

night 

Wind,  mild  at  first  but  freshening  keen  and  fast, 
And  shouldering  Titan-like  the  clouds  along, 
Went  blowing  inland.     Dark  the  world  became; 
And  sounds  mysterious  under  ocean  ran, 
Like  noise  of  crunching  rocks  or  settling  walls 
When   props    are    knocked    away.      Then    heaving 

deep, 

As  if  its  bed  were  tilted  up,  while  sank 
The  land  in  equal  scale,  whate'er  the  cause, 
The  mighty  stream  rolled  inland.     Earth  beneath 
Convulsive  groaning  heaved  the  liquid  hills, 
That  far  subsiding  rolled.     Overhead  was  storm, 
Black  cloud  and  lightning  flash,  a  roof  of  night, 
Whose  rafters  all  were  fire;  while  yet  the  rain 
Hung  pendulous,  nor  fell.     Now  on  our  lee 
Loomed  up  the  halls  of  Cain,  like  rocks  awash, 
Beneath  that  awful  gleam.     The  crawling  brine 
Had  filled  their  streets;  and  waves  like  battering- 
rams 

Demolished  home  and  fane.    On  beetling  roofs, 
Yet  stedfast,  jutting  dark  against  the  fire, 
Moved  frantic  forms,  whose  cry  methought  I  heard 
Through  stormy  miles  between.     Then  fell  the  rain 
In  tumbling  rivers,  making  earth  and  sky 
One  formless  blot. 

ADAH.  Ah,  may  my  sleep  to-night 


74       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

Be  free  of  dreams ;  for  if  a  vision  came 
What  pictures  might  it  draw. 

IBAN.  These  eyes  could  weep 

A  second  flood  for  what  the  first  destroyed. 
I  saw  the  marble  domes  a  thousand  years 
Had  built  with  toil  of  thousands,  hewing  flat 
Whole  mountains  for  the  stone,  I  saw  them  racked 
From  their  foundations;  arch  and  aqueduct, 
The  marvels  of  all  time,  in  frothy  foam 
Made  scaffolding  for  coral.     Park  and  lawn, 
The  walks  we  loved,  far  rides  along  the  hills, 
Wide   stretch  of  landscape   flecked  with  countless 

homes, — 
All  now  are  nothing. 

IRAD.  Just  beyond  the  town 

A  villa  lay  where  I  was  born  and  reared. 
I  knew  its  every  acre,  every  curve 
Of  slope  or  river;  'twas  my  world,  'twas  home. 
Such  ties  the  Deluge  broke. 

A  REVELER.  Fill  high  the  bowl, 

Else  Goodman  Gloom  may  tweak  our  nose.     Drink 

deep; 

Old  Lady  Care  would  edge  into  our  midst; 
We'll  send  her  packing. 

IBAN.  Ay,  you're  right,  you're  right. 

Enjoy  the  fire  that  burns;  the  fire  that's  cold 
Will  ne'er  inspire  the  young  nor  warm  the  old. 

TUBAL.     The  night  is  done.    Let  now  the  cup  of 
sleep, 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  75 

Infused  with  drowsy  lotus,  walk  its  round. 
A  health  to  dreamland,  friends. 

ALL.  A  health  to  dreamland. 

ADAH.    On  shores  afar  the  peaceful  waters  lap. 
And  winds  at  play  among  the  rustling  boughs 
Are  calling  for  their  playmates. 

I  RAD.  Wait,  we  come. 

Thy  hair  is  soft,  beloved,  and  thy  breath 
Like  April  meadows.     Fair  is  earth  indeed. 
Great  mother  Life,  why  should  thy  children  lack? 
Sweet  hall  of  dreams,  receive  the  wanderer  back. 

[They  all  fall  into  drowsy  attitudes,  and  nothing 
is  heard  but  the  uproar  of  the  storm  outside. 
A  long  time  elapses.  Then  Irad  awakes  while 
the  others  remain  asleep,  and  with  the  gleam 
of  unnatural  excitement  still  in  his  eyes  goes 
to  the  mouth  of  the  cave.] 

IRAD.     Art  thou  there,  Enoch,  wandering  in  the 

night  ? 

Let  him  who  wishes  life  be  wise,  nor  tempt 
The  sons  of  Cain.     Thou  pay'st  thy  folly's  fee. 
And  thou  dark  speck  beneath  the  lightning's  gleam, 
If  thou  be  what  I  think  thee,  journey  on 
To  thy  dull  destiny.    Not  Seth  alone, 
Cain  also  shall  survive,  and  I  with  Cain; 
And  life  with  us,  not  flaccid  life  and  lean, 
But  such  as  through  the  inmost  vein  of  being 
Mines  out  the  treasure  hid.     Still  vext  pursue 


76       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

A  phantom  future,  lay  foundation  walls; 
We'll  clasp  the  present,  feast  in  halls  that  are. 


CURTAIN. 


ACT   IV. 

SCENE  I. 

TIME.     A  number  of  days  later. 

PLACE.  A  small  temple  to  Niloh  on  the  topmost 
point  of  Mount  Himenay.  The  scene  is  a  square 
colonnade.  At  the  back  it  is  open  and  gives  a  view 
of  the  storm  outside  and  the  waste  of  waters,  which 
now  are  not  far  below  the  top  of  the  mountain. 
Far  off  appears  a  half  submerged  rock  which  was 
once  the  summit  of  a  high  mountain  peak.  In  the 
foreground  are  rugs,  couches,  and  all  the  fur 
nishings  of  luxury.  The  scene  begins  in  the  dim 
gray  twilight  of  daytime,  which  darkens  into  pitch- 
black  night  at  the  end. 

[Enter  the  Antediluvians  as  if  from  banquet.'] 

IBAN.     Let  heaven  roar  and  rain!     Who  cares? 

Its  flashes 

Are  festal  lamps  to  us,  its  thunder  music. 
Let  the  wet  patter ;  let  the  wind  it  drenches 
Blow  cool  our  fevered  cheek. 

TUBAL.  Climb,  ocean,  climb. 

Your  waves  besiege  a  fort  provisioned  well. 
One  drop  of  life-infusing  wine  can  conquer 
All  your  damp  horrors. 


78       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

IBAN.  Ocean's  but  a  stage, 

Postprandial  theater,  our  panorama. 
Ring  up  the  scudding  mist  with  thunder,  gods ; 
And  well  enjoy  the  tableau. 

TUBAL.  Reverend  Noah, 

Afloat  there  in  the  storm,  eats  moldy  cheese, 
Drinks  the  flat,  tepid  rain,  and  lies  in  straw 
Where  cattle  house.     Who'd  share  his  cruise  with 

him — 

Who  that  can  live  with  us  on  dainty  fare, 
Drink  foaming  vintage,  lie  on  purple  couches, 
Feel  like  the  gods  warm  blood  and  breathing  fra 
grance  ? 

IBAN.     Ay,  let  the  world  go  under !     What  care 

we 
In  joy's  asylum? 

ADAH.  Only  all  these  garlands 

Are  withered  ones;  I  miss  the  living  wreaths. 
The  rich  old  earth  is  bankrupt  now  of  blossom. 
And  I  so  prized  them  all,  the  rose  and  lily, 
Proud  garden  queen  and  mistress  of  the  meadow. 
When  buds  the  earth  again  ?  When  shall  we  cull 
Flowers  on  the  hills  ? 

IRAD.  Ask  Him  who  sent  the  Deluge. 

If  still  He  rule  the  deep,  He  knows.     But  often 
A  crushing  terror  grips  my  heart  that  He, 
Stunned  by  this  endless  rush  and  roar,  and  deafened 
By  the  eternal  lashing  of  the  storm, 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  79 

Has   dropped  the  reins   of  power;   and   the   wild 

waters, 
Like  horses  masterless,  gallop  on  forever. 

ADAH.     A  fairer  dream  was  mine.     Methought 

the  sun 

Beamed  as  of  old;  and  earth  to  meet  him  slipped 
Her  robe  of  waters  from  her  like  a  bride. 
His  lip  was  warm  on  peak  and  hill,  that  swelled 
Like  breasts  of  love,  and  warm  his  arms  of  light 
Around  the  blushing  planet.     From  their  union 
Grew  life  anew.     Beneath  the  mantling  sea-weed, 
Like  arbutus  through  withered  leaves  of  March, 
Peeped   all   the   flowers   of   spring.      The   parting 

ripple 
Went    lingering    from    the    moistened    hills,    that 

gleamed 
Like  meadows  after  rain. 

IRAD.  I  am  a  churl 

To  shatter  dream  so  fair;  but  we  must  arm 
Our  hearts  beforehand  for  the  hard,  stern  truth. 
For  when  the  Flood  goes  down,  if  e'er  it  do, 
The  earth  will  be  no  bride  but  one  great  corpse; 
And  that  grim  desolation,  huge  and  haunting, 
Will  hang  persistent  on  the  eye,  and  crush 
The  soul  within  us, — valleys  black  with  slime, 
Gaunt,  ribbed  hills,  the  skeleton  of  a  world, 
And   drifted   silt,  through   which  the  wrecks    dis 
mantled 
Of  the  great  past  will  point  like  dead  men's  fingers. 


80       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

There  too  we'll  find  the  death  of  ocean  piled 
High  on  dry  land,  strange  corpses  of  the  abyss, 
Tremendous,  whale  and  kraken  where  they  died ; 
Who  knows?  perhaps  leviathan  himself 
Stretched  in  portentous  bulk  along  some  hill, 
Athwart  the  sunset  like  an  ominous  cloud. 
And  we  must  live,  one  lonely  colony, 
In  alien  scenes  of  death,  till  gradual  time 
Enshroud  them  deep  in  herbage.     I  am  cruel, 
But  'tis  the  surgeon's  hand. 

TUBAL.  This  comes  of  fasting, 

Fasting  and  lack  of  wine,  this  gloomy  mood. 
You  have  not  drunk  to-day.     Here,  boy,  but  taste. 
Here's  alchemy  transmuting  woe  to  bliss, 
And  fool  to  sage. 

IRAD.  We  all  have  drunk  too  deep 

Of  that  charmed  cup ;  would  I  might  never  taste  it 
In  life  again. 

IBAN.  Oh,  'tis  the  magic  glass 

Through   which   all   time   grows   rosy,   life's  quin 
tessence, 

Romance  and  beauty.  Could  you  live  without  it 
One  fleeting  moon,  to  drink  from  j  et  and  puddle 
Insipid,  bare  existence? 

TUBAL.  He  has  tried  it, 

With  solemn  oath  abjured  the  god  of  wine 
For  three  whole  days,  and  on  the  fourth  returned 
With  thrice  threefold  devotion. 

IRAD.  What  we  could  do 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  81 

I  know  not  well ;  but  what  we  must  I  know. 
Have  you  e'er  thought  what  hardship  we  must  bear 
When  all  these  vaults  are  drained?     Left  empty- 
handed 

On  the  denuded  hills,  we  must  strip  off 
The  soft  traditions  of  a  hundred  years, 
And  delve  like  Eve  and  Adam. 

ADAH.  Nay,  but  surely 

We'll  be  the  lords  of  earth. 

IRAD.  And  who  our  servants  ? 

Alas,  dear  head,  will  miles  of  barren  mud 
Yield  thee  one  dainty  mouthful?     Will  the  winds 
O'er  continents  all  empty  blow  together 
A  home  for  thee?     When  time  has  worn  away 
This  gorgeous  robe,  think  you  its  like  will  grow 
On  wayside  brambles?     Iban  and  myself 
Must  till  old  earth  for  bread ;  and  thou,  sweet  love, 
Even  if  we  spare  thee  toil,  must  yet  endure 
With  us  privation. 

IBAN.  Ah,  you're  like  the  plague ! 

Your  mood's  infectious;  and  my  sickening  fancy 
Already  weaves  the  picture,  sordid  want 
With  horror  mixed,  where  hunger  drives  us  on 
Through  that  great  cemetery  once  a  world. 
Here  march  we  swart  and  haggard ;  tired  at  night 
Lop  trees  for  shelter,  bed  on  clammy  moss ; 
Drive  down  our  pick  on  buried  thrones  of  kings, 
Cheap  now  as  limestone ;  gnaw  our  blackened  crust 
O'er  stones  that  jut  from  halls  of  former  feast; 


82       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

Turn  with  irreverent  blow  the  bygone  bones 
That  once  had  slept  with  us ;  and  when  the  thought 
Of  death  and  what's  beyond  has  chilled  our  blood, 
Read  on  some  kinsman's  enigmatic  skull, 
"I  know,  but  tell  not."    Never !  drink  and  revel 
While  revel  lasts ;  and  after  that  we'll  sleep. 

IRAD.     So  say  you  now ;  but  would  you  quench  so 

lightly 

That  lamp  of  thought  that  none  can  reillume, 
Dreams   even  to  drudges  known,   and   whispering 

hope 

Intangible  and  sweet  o'er  weary  pillows, — 
Leave  this,  and  sleep  forever,  none  know  how, 
With  nothingness  or  nightmares  ?     What  had  Adam 
And  our  first  mother  more  than  we  to  charm  them  ? 
We'll  dig  as  they  did,  and  perhaps  like  them 
Be  root  of  some  great  nation. 

TUBAL.  Ah,  I  see  you 

In  vision,  youngster,  practice  what  you  preach. 
Old  Adam — pshaw!  his  was  a  bovine  race, 
That    grazed,   and   suckled  young,   and   lived    for 

others. 

We're  tigers,  boy.     On  others  for  ourselves 
We've  learned  to  live,  grown  sleek  and  terrible 
By  that  warm  diet.     Can  we  now,  so  late, 
Unlearn  the  lesson  of  the  centuries?     No. 
We'll  live  the  tiger's  life,  and  die  his  death 
When  our  fat  oxen  fail. 

IRAD.  The  very  tiger 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  83 

Would  chew  the  grass  and  live,  if  his  grim  maw 
Could  make  it  food. 

TUBAL.  Ay,  but  it  cannot  feed  him ; 

Nor  can  we  live  and  drudge.    The  pastoral  age 
Went  long  ago.     Oh,  I  am  old,  I  saw  it. 
They  knew  no  better;  ignorance  like  dew 
Made  life  a  morning  fresh.     The  dew  is  dried. 
They  built  the  world  and  we  enjoyed  it  well. 
Why  should  we  build  like  fools  for  others  ?    No ! 
When  the  long  banquet's  done,  out  lights !  to  bed ! 
We've  had  our  hour  and  used  it. 

I  BAN.  Ay,  our  fathers 

Went  drudging  on,  and  lived  because  they  lived, 
Ne'er  asking  why.    We've  learned  to  think,  to  know 
What  a  poor  piebald  robe  of  curse  and  blessing 
Is  life  at  best ;  at  worst  a  poison  tunic, 
Which  wisdom  spurns. 

IRAD.  Had  God  not  sent  the  Deluge 

What  hand  had  built  for  future  years,  and  saved 
Wisdom  and  health  for  them,  while  we  were  wasting 
The    hoard    our    fathers    piled?      Those    mighty 

muscles, 

That  have  withstood  unwrecked  a  lifetime's  waste, 
Debauchery  and  soft  joy;  these  brains  of  ours, 
In  which  the  genius  of  a  maddening  world 
Flares  up  before  it  dies, — these  are  the  savings 
Of  the  long,  healthy  years  before  we  came. 
What  body,  mind,  and  soul  were  we  bequeathing 
To  future  nations  ? 


84       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

I  BAN.  Would  you  have  the  world 

Forever  in  the  same  prosaic  furrow 
Crawl  on  in  stingy  leanness?     Rather  think 
Our  fathers  were  the  root,  and  we  the  flower, 
The  perfect  blossom.     'Twas  for  us  they  sucked 
The  j  uice  of  earth ;  and,  had  we  never  bloomed, 
They  too  were  vain.     The  dream  of  what  we  are 
Cheered  on  those  plodding  sires ;  and  what  we  were 
From  monolith  and  parchment  shall  inspire 
The  years  to  be.     We  are  a  flame  that  o'er 
The  sordid  hills  of  time  interprets  life 
As  something  splendid. 

FIRST  REVELER.  Is  not  that  the  theme 

Of  your  new  drama? 

IBAN.  Surely. 

ADAH.  Oh,  the  drama ! 

We  have  not  heard  it;  you  must  read  it,  Iban. 

SECOND  REVELER.     No,  no !  we'll  act  it. 

FIRST  REVELER.  Act  it ;  that  is  better. 

ADAH.     What  is  the  plot? 

IBAN.  The  Power  that  rules  the  world, 

Arraigned  in  court  for  drowning  man,  is  brought 
Before  old  Time  as  judge.     The  Spirit  of  Beauty 
Is  his  accuser;  he  defends  himself. 
The  verdict  ends  the  play.     'Tis  a  mere  fragment, 
Thrown  off  at  random. 

FIRST  REVELER.  Iban  shall  be  accuser, 

Old  Tubal-cain,  throned  here  in  state,  be  Time, 
And  I  the  offending  Power.     We  know  our  lines. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  85 

Now  for  the  play. 

IBAN.  The  scene's  the  hall  of  Time. 

TUBAL-CAIN  (as  Time). 

We  fill  our  throne  of  judgment.     Who  appear 
In  this  great  court  of  last  appeal,  to  hear 
The  sentence  of  old  Time? 

IBAN  (as  the  Spirit  of  Beauty). 

So  deep  a  wrong 

As  never  sons  of  Beauty  yet  nor  Song 
Have  known  I  bring.     That  Power  which  from  the 

void 

The  world  created  and  the  world  destroyed 
I  here  accuse,  that  his  own  child  he  slew, 
The  earth  which  at  his  knee  in  beauty  grew ; 
And  heaped  the  scum  of  waves  and  drifted  silt 
O'er  what  my  hand  and  thine,  old  Time,  had  built. 

TUBAL-CAIN  (as  Time). 

A  fearful  charge ;  what  answer,  Lord  of  Spheres, 
Mak'st  thou  before  the  dread  and  searching  years  ? 

FIRST  REVELER  (as  the  Power  of  the  World,  and 
mimicking  the  manner  of  Noah). 

All  measures  in  vain 

Would  the  measureless  span ; 
And  what  .word  shall  explain 

The  eternal  to  man, 


86       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

In  what  dim  recesses 

The  mystery  lurks 
That  curses  and  blesses 

And  endlessly  works? 
When  the  world  that  was  doomed 

Was  engulfed  in  the  wave, 
Then  my  wrath  but  resumed 

What  my  clemency  gave. 
And  the  reasons  that  stirred  me, 

The  will  that  inflamed, 
Know  those  only  who  heard  me, 

When  nature  was  framed. 
O'er  a  glory  immoral, 

A  beauty  profane, 
Now  branches  the  coral 

And  darkens  the  main. 

TUBAL-CAIN  (as  Time). 
Hast  thou  no  more?     Speak  on,  accuser. 

IBAN  (as  the  Spirit  of  Beauty). 

Lo, 

The  saddest  witness  court  did  ever  know 
I  bring  thee  here,  and  call  to  life  again 
The  spirit  of  that  city  built  by  Cain. 
Sea-weed  and  wreckage  line  her  marble  floors; 
Night  keeps  the  temple  now  where  none  adores; 
For  thrones  imperial  whale  and  serpent  vie; 
And  dead  within  her  arms  her  children  lie. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  87 

There  infants  are  who  scarce  began  to  bloom, 
And  babes  unborn  that  died  within  the  womb, 
The  little  hand  that  just  had  learned  to  reach 
The  mother's  face,  the  gaze  that  longed  for  speech. 
What  law  of  God  or  nature  ever  broke 
The  helpless  arm,  the  lip  that  never  spoke? 
There  lie,  cut  off  untimely,  girl  and  boy, 
Whose  only  fault  was  that  they  dared  enjoy 
What  Heaven  and  nature  gave.    And  here  the  seas 
Rolled  dark  o'er  those  who  drew  from  breathing 

keys 

Delight  unknown  before,  from  wire  or  pipe, 
Or  metal's  clang ;  and  those,  when  time  was  ripe, 
Who  mirrored  life  on  canvas,  wall  and  frieze ; 
And  bards  divine,  who  sang  of  art  and  ease, 
Delight  and  dream  and  life  without  alloy; 
And  learned  men,  who  found  the  cup  of  joy 
In  the  dark  mine  of  life,  and  gave  the  power 
To  taste  without  repentance'  answering   hour. 
And  mighty  men  of  old  renown  are  there, 
Whose  like  come  nevermore,  whose  strength  could 

tear 

The  lion's  jaws.     Unworn  a  lifetime  long 
They  drank  the  exhaustless  rapture  of  the  strong, 
Warred,  loved,  and  reveled;  and  their  torch  burnt 

red, 

Yet  unconsumed.     Lo,  judge,  for  all  these  dead 
I  make  appeal.     The  light  is  quenched  that  none 
Can  reillume,  the  day  of  glory  done, 


88       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

The  life  that  was,  the  life  that  none  restore, 
The  life  that  earth  shall  equal  nevermore. 

TUBAL-CAIN  (as  Time). 

Hark  to  the  judgment  of  old  Time.     Thou  Power 
That  hast  consumed  thy  children,  from  this  hour 
Resign  thy  throne,  nor  hope  to  fill  it  more 
Till  thou  the  glory  thou  hast  quenched  restore. 
And,  final  act  of  thy  now  forfeit  might, 
Quell  thou  the  storm,  rekindle  heaven's  light, 
Roll  back  the  waves,  and  call  the  earth  to  bloom. 

FIRST  REVELER   (as  Power  of  the  World). 

Lo,  here  submissive  I  accept  my  doom. 

Even  as  I  speak  rain,  wind,  and  cloud  have  ceased; 

The  floods  withdraw,  the  morning  walks  the  east. 

And  what  thou  hast  not  asked,  repentant  now 

I  will  perform,  and  seal  it  with  a  vow. 

The  sad  survivors  of  the  world  that's  gone 

I'll  love  and  cherish  as  the  doe  its  fawn. 

Still  as  his  father  did  the  son  shall  do; 

And  the  old  world  be  born  in  them  anew. 

IBAN.     So  ends  the  play. 

ADAH.  And  well  deserves  our  thanks. 

Irad,  is  that  not  so?     Why  do  you  stare 
So  fixedly  at  the  storm  ?     No  word  of  praise 
For  what  has  charmed  us? 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  89 

IRAD.  Oh,  'twas  doubtless  well. 

Only  the  Power  outside  there  in  the  rain 
Seemed  somewhat  different  from  your  mimic  one. 

[He  walks  to  the  edge  of  the  colonnade  and  holds 
up  his  hands  into  the  storm  that  drives  over 
him.  At  the  same  time  there  comes  an  un 
usually  loud  peal  of  thunder.~\ 

Here's  His  cold  message ;  there  you  hear  His  voice 

Proclaim  His  will  to  man.    Shall  you  and  I, 

Think  you,  by  his  decree  renew  on  earth 

The  life  we  used  to  live  ?    And  that  dark  water, 

Pitted  and  wrinkled  by  the  spouting  floods 

Of  yet  augmenting  anger,  is  the  seal 

Of  His  approval  on  our  past  and  future. 

ADAH.     You  are  unwell. 

IRAD.  Oh,  yes,  I  am  unwell, 

Sick  of  a  thing  they  call  the  curse  of  God. 
You  too  are  sick  and  know  it  not,  all,  all. 
But  the  physician's  coming. 

ADAH   (to  others).  Pray  you,  leave  us. 

[Exeunt  all  except  Adah  and  Irad.~\ 

ADAH.     Thou  art  alone  with  me.     Come,  rest  thy 

head 

Upon  my  bosom,  let  me  lull  thy  fever. 
Thy  forehead  burns. 

IRAD.  Then  fold  thy  kerchief  there. 


90       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

Not  sick  in  blood  am  I  but  sick  of  heart, 
And  need  no  medicine  but  companionship. 

ADAH.     Liked  you  not  Iban's  play? 

I  RAD.  'Twas  mockery,  mockery. 

He  played  a  wedding  march ;  and  through  the  win 
dow 
I  saw  the  bride's  white  skull. 

ADAH.  You  will  go  mad 

If  thus  you  watch  that  water.     Gone  is  Nod, 
The  beautiful  city  of  our  childhood's  gone ; 
But  we,  we  live ;  and  in  the  city  of  love 
We'll  still  be  happy. 

IRAD.  Oh,  but  shall  we  be? 

Or  is  our  love  a  transitory  thing, 
Far  from  life's  root,  one  petal  of  that  flower 
Which  God  mowed  down  in  mercy  ere  it  withered  ? 
On  thy  soft  forehead  burns  no  brand  of  Cain, 
No  saint's  more  fair.     Had  we  grown  old  in  Nod, 
And  God  ne'er  sent  the  Deluge,  could  we  two 
Have  kept  the  genial  torch  of  love  alight 
When  blood  and  bone  were  cold  ?     What  think  you, 

Adah? 

Weak,  old,  and  wrinkled,  had  we  still  been  dear 
Each  to  the  other? 

ADAH.  What  persistent  wind 

Thus  blows  your  mind  on  rocks  of  wretchedness  ? 
We're  young;  if  now  we  dream  of  being  old, 
When  shall  we  have  our  youth? 

IRAD.  Is  love  a  lamp 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  91 

To  burn  on  sense  and  fade  when  sense  is  gone  ? 

If  so,,  we'll  light  it  and  inhale  its  breath 

Now  while  we  may.     But  there's  another  love, 

Ne'er  found  in  life  yet  seeming  meant  to  live, 

That  comes  in  dreams  and  haunts  my  waking  hours. 

In  that  the  passing  glow  of  youth  became 

A  furnace  fire,,  wherein  the  soul  was  forged 

To  beauty's  image;  and  the  heat  grew  cold, 

But  left  the  soul  it  forged  still  beautiful. 

And  oft  I've  dreamed  one  woman  dwelt  with  me 

In  a  small  cottage  out  among  the  trees 

As  brother  might  with  sister,  only  closer, 

In  sweeter  union,  weaving  soul  in  soul; 

Have  sat  long  nights  beside  her  hand  in  hand, 

In  lonely  chambers,  where  no  stifling  air 

With  incense  loaded  came,  but  meadows  breathed 

Through  open  windows.     For  our  torch  the  moon 

Shone  pure  and  tranquil.     In  that  hour  we  might 

Have  grown  unbodied  spirits,  mixing  still 

In  incorporeal  winds,  and  still  have  loved. 

Our  drink  was  all  the  brook;  and  calm  within 

Flowed    strength    that   never    from    the    wine-cup 

welled. 

We  toiled,  accomplished,  builded,  felt  in  little 
What  must  have  been  the  great  Creator's  joy. 
And  the  grave  hills  looked  down,  and  placid  heaven 
Smiled  kindly  at  us.     Slowly  we  grew  old 
Among  our  children,  yet  the  moving  years 
But  drew  us  closer.     Is  all  this  a  dream  ? 


92       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

Or  can  we  live  so,  Adah,  you  and  I  ? 

ADAH.     Nay,  you  are  feverish ;  let  the  future  go ; 
For  none  can  tell  what  power  or  wish  were  ours 
On  ways  untried,  and  woman  least  of  all. 
Where  thou  art  not  is  desert ;  where  thou  art 
I  clasp  thy  youth,  and  none  can  wrest  it  from  me. 
Let  the  great  clock  tick  on ;  we'll  stuff  our  ears 
And  never  hear  it. 

IRAD.  But  the  cry  of  children, 

Our    own,    will    come.      What    life    shall    they    be 
taught  ? 

ADAH.     What  else  than  that  of  time's  old  race, 

the  blood 
Of  Cain  and  Irad? 

IRAD.  Shall  our  little  daughter 

Grow  up  to  worship  Niloh?     And  our  boy 
Learn  life  as  I  did? 

ADAH.  Would  you  have  him  other 

Than  what  you  are,  the  manliest  son  of  Cain? 
What  in  your  nature  vexes  you? 

IRAD.  O  Adah, 

There's  something  in  my  nature  killing  me. 
Why  turned  my  fancy  thus  to  rural  life, 
Untainted  love  and  labor's  healthy  vigil? 
'Twas  as  the  traveler,  dying  parched  in  deserts, 
Might  dream  cool  water  near,  and  gulp  the  sand 
In  helpless  longing.     Night  and  day  there  comes 
The  vision  of  a  life  I  cannot  live, 
Such  as  God  meant  for  man,  and  which  my  fathers 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  93 

Bartered  for  this  ere  I  was  born.     I  said, 

Calm  peace  shall  drive  out  anger ;  in  an  hour 

I  was  a  murderer.     Temperance,  then  I  said, 

Shall  spread  my  table;  four  short  days  had  passed, 

And  wine  and  lotus  claimed  me.     Yet,  I  cried, 

My  love  for  woman  shall  be  pure  as  dew. 

But  oh !  though  pure  and  fair  my  love  for  thee, 

And  rooted  deep  in  all  that's  noblest  here, 

Yet  ever  on  that  rose  of  beauty  crawls 

The  loathsome  worm  that  Niloh's  worship  spawned. 

Nor  can  I  pluck  it  from  my  brain. 

ADAH.  Be  calm. 

You  see  the  world  through  black  delirium's  glass, 
Which  colors  all  you  do.    Who'd  have  a  man 
Meek  as  a  peasant,  dieting  like  children, 
Loving  he  knows  not  what  ?     The  thing  that  frights 

you 

Is  life  as  all  do  live.     You're  not  yourself. 
Rest  and  forget. 

IRAD.  Oh,  these  are  on  the  surface, 

Mere  ripples  from  within.     But  deeper,  deeper 
Goes  the  dread  thing  I  have  not  words  to  tell. 
'Tis  my  whole  view  of  life.     Ambition,  friendship, 
Love,  pleasure,  worship,  God,  and  hope,  and  beauty, 
And  good  and  evil, — all  these  things  on  me, 
Like  some  fair  hillside  glassed  in  turbid  waters, 
Come  fouled  and  darkened.     I  am  like  a  man 
Whose  limbs  the  surgeon  lopped  but  yesterday. 
Still  in  his  brain  the  restless  nerves  reach  out 


94       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

To  clasp,  to  move,  and  nothing  there  responds. 
So  day  and  night  my  spirit  reaches  out 
To  be  the  man  God  meant  me;  but  the  power 
To  clasp  that  dream  my  fathers  rent  and  severed 
Ere  I  drew  breath. 

ADAH.  What  would  you  do  or  be 

That  you  cannot  ?    Are  you  not  envied  heir 
Of  what  the  centuries  gathered,  fair  and  strong, 
A  lord  of  men  ? 

IRAD.  Oh,  yes,  a  blessed  heir. 

Our  grandsires  made  the  torch,  our  fathers  burnt 

it; 
'Tis  at  the  socket  now. 

ADAH.  Have  you  not  friends 

To  make  you  cheer? 

IKAD.  Yes,  but  that  angry  ocean 

Brings  such  a  loneliness  as  none  dispel. 
There  speaks  the  wrath  of  God,  and  night  and  day 
Frowns  in  on  me. 

ADAH.  Let  the  dark  despot  frown. 

We'll  scorn  His  tyranny. 

IRAD-  Were  He  a  tyrant 

Then  I  could  bear,  retorting  scorn  with  scorn. 
But  wiser,  deeper,  tenderer  than  the  love 
Of  man  is  His;  and  while  He  frowns  on  me, 
He  smiles  on  others,  beautiful  beyond  words. 
Oh,  lonely,  lonely  past  all  speech  to  feel 
The  anger  of  the  good !     I  am  the  blot 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  95 

On  His  fair  world,  the  gnarl  upon  the  bough,, 
Which  He  must  pare  away. 

ADAH.  This  road  is  madness. 

You  must  not,  shall  not  brood  on  things  like  these. 
Hark,,  and  I'll  sing  thy  restless  heart  to  sleep 
With  an  old  tune  we  love. 

SONG 

What  calls  from  the  distance 

And  beckons  us  on? 
'Tis  the  joy  of  existence 

Ere  morning  be  gone. 
The  blossoms  are  swelling, 

The  dawn's  in  the  east; 
And  the  soul  in  its  dwelling 

Rejoices  at  feast. 
While  to  harmony  moving 

All  blessings  unite, 
The  loved  and  the  loving 

Drink  deep  of  delight. 
The  gods  have  grown  heedless, 

They  all  are  so  old. 
Oh,  why,  when  'tis  needless, 

Should  pleasure  be  cold? 

IRAD.  I  thank  thee,  dear. 

And  now  thou'rt  weary ;  leave  me  here  a  little. 
I'd  be  alone  and  silent. 


96       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

ADAH.  Dare  I  trust  thee 

To  thy  dark  thoughts  alone? 

IRAD.  They're  fleeing  fast, 

Chased  by  thy  gentle  touch.     Goodby,  sweet  love. 

ADAH.     But  stay  not  long  alone,  for  I  shall  miss 
thee. 

[Exit  Adah.] 

IRAD  (alone).    The  night  grows  dense  within  and 

wild  without. 

The  torches  are  burnt  low,  and  in  their  sockets 
Flicker    and    fade.       There,    the    wild    gust    has 

quenched  them. 

Come,  Darkness,  and  shake  hands ;  for  I  and  thou 
Are  of  the  shadowy  things  that  must  make  room 
When  God  brings  in  His  morning. 

[Walks  to  the  edge  and  looks  at  the  water.] 

Rising  still. 

Where  on  these  waters  dark  is  Noah  now  ? 
Two  empty  places  in  his  ark  there  are, 
Mine  and  my  victim's.    What  dark  spot  is  that 
Which   floats   against  the   rock   and  hangs   there? 

Strange, 

It  looks  a  floating  coffin.     Something  white 
Peeps  out  beneath  the  lightning.     'Tis  a  skull. 
Thou  dreadful  herald  from  the  realms  untrod, 
Why  knock'st  thou  here?     Nay,  rather,  wandering 

waif, 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  97 

What  hospitality  dost  thou  need  more? 

Does  lack  of  burial  haunt  thee  ?     Has  that  brought 

thee 
Thus  battering  at  my  gate?     Wait,  then,  I  come. 

[He  descends  to  the  water,  and  soon  returns  with 
a  human  skull  in  his  hand.] 

Sit  there,  ambassador.    I'd  talk  with  thee. 
I'll  seek  thy  country  shortly,  and  I'd  know 
Its  customs,  folk,  and  language.     You  live  longer 
Than  we  do  here ;  pray,  does  the  time  hang  heavy  ? 
Do  the  dead  know  each  other  ?     Can  young  lovers 
Still  find  each  other  lovely?     Does  God  come  there 
To  smile  on  these  and  frown  at  those  ?    No  answer  ? 
Oh,  you're  a  diplomat;  you've  learned  out  there 
To  hold  your  tongue.     Nay,  you're  but  bones  and 

offal. 

What  answer  should  the  brain  in  my  warm  skull 
Expect  of  this  dry  pod?     Thou'rt  but  the  husk 
Of  some  abortive  grain  which  winds  have  blown 
From  God's  great  threshing-floor.     Poor,  kindred 

thing, 

Cast  on  the  dump-heap  of  the  world,  while  God 
Finds  pleasure  elsewhere!     Yet  he  did  not  die 
Beneath  the  Deluge;  see,  these  bones  were  cracked 
By  club  or  staff.     What  Cainite  son  of  Cain 
Took  thee  for  Abel?     Half  methinks  I  know 
The  face  that  once  you  lined.     Did  Noah  send  thee 
Afloat  to  me  ?     Or  has  the  Flood  scooped  up 


98       THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

Thy  new-dug  grave,  that  thou  art  come  to  stare 
At  my  sick  conscience  thus  ?    Preach  on,  preach  on ! 
I  know  thy  text,  admit  its  truth ;  and  yet 
Thou  might'st  have  mercy.    Even  in  death  persist 
ent! 

Or  hast  thou  come  to  tell  me  that  those  eyes 
Have  seen  the  Deluge,  as  thou  swor'st  they  should, 
And  I  did  swear  they  should  not  ?     Get  thee  gone ! 
Wert  thou  alive  again  I'd  kill  thee  still! 

[He  strikes  the  skull,  which  rolls  along  the  floor. 
Then  after  a  pause  he  speaks.] 

And  yet  the  will  to  murder ! 

[From  the  next  room  comes  an  outburst  of  drunken 
revelry.] 

Oh,  great  Heaven, 

What  things  are  we  that  we  have  lived  so  long? 
Come,  Death,  beneath  thy  mantel  cover  up 
The  horrid  glass  that  shows  us  what  we  are. 
Blow  wind,  and  tumble  rain,  and  ocean  swell ! 
Why  are  you  tardy?     Haste  your  cleansing  work. 
Wipe  us  from  that  creation  which  we  blot ! 
Come,  bury  us,  bury  us  from  the  face  of  God 
Under  your  waters  forever  and  forever ! 

CURTAIN. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  99 


SCENE  II. 

TIME.     Four  or  five  days  later. 

PLACE.  The  same  as  in  the  last  scene.  The 
storm,  however,  has  ceased,  and  the  moon  shines 
occasionally  through  the  clouds. 

[Enter  Iban  and   Tubal-cain.~\ 

IBAN.     The  rain  has  paused ;  is  ocean  rising  yet  ? 

TUBAL.     No,  not  two  fathom  down  beneath  our 

feet 

The  waves  have  halted.     Through  the  grated  cloud 
There  glints  the  moon  at  last. 

IBAN.  And  hope  with  her 

Returns  at  length  to  tell  a  kindlier  future 
Than  this  cold,  fishy  death  we  feared. 

TUBAL.  Even  so. 

The  balance  turns.     Life  may  have  something  yet 
For  all  of  us. 

IBAN.  No,  not  for  all;  for  one 

That  cup  is  emptied. 

TUBAL.  Adah? 

IBAN.  She  is  dying. 

TUBAL.      But    three    days    ill,    and    all    to    end 

to-night. 

The  race  of  men  grow  frail,  young  generations 
That  wither  in  the  bud.     The  hoary  fathers 


100     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

Who  drowned  of  late  o'ertopped  their  dwindling 

sons. 

The  mighty  lived;  but  might  was  born  no  more. 
Nor  length  of  days.     Could  wind  as  light  as  this 
Detach  a  fruit  unripened? 

IBAN.  Fate  is  jealous 

Of  all  that's  fair.    The  things  that  charmed  our  life 
He  filches  one  by  one. 

[Exeunt  Iban  and  Tubal-cain.     Enter  Irad  bear 
ing  Adah.] 

IRAD.     Here  rest  thee  where  the  moon's  rekin 
dling  beam 
May  light  thy  brow. 

ADAH.  'Tis  gone. 

IRAD.  'Twill  come  again. 

There  exiled  life  returns  to  all  mankind; 
Canst  thou  not  share  it? 

ADAH.  Oh,  the  wish  to  live 

Burns  up  anew,  but  not  the  power.     All's  done, 
The  glamour  and  the  glory,  warmth  and  beat 
Of  life's  glad,  transient  dream.     I  pant  for  breath. 
Ah,  me! 

IRAD.     Here  rest  thy  head.    Thou'rt  better  now  ? 
There  gleams  the  moon  again,  as  when  it  lighted 
Our  loves  of  old. 

ADAH.  But  not  the  same ;  its  ray 

Is  cold,  that  once  was  warm. 


AND  OTHER 

IRAD.  The  same  bright  key 

Is  this  which  once  unlocked  our  golden  hours. 

ADAH.     The  golden  hours  are  gone.     Ah,  who 

can  tell 

Behind  the  door  that  key  unlocks  to-night 
What  waits  for  me  ?    Perhaps  old  Elmin's  ghost 
Will  ask  me  on  the  threshold  of  the  dead 
Why  he  was  poisoned;  with  malignant  leer 
May  tell  my  soul  'tis  at  his  mercy  there. 

IRAD.     You  did  not  kill  him. 

ADAH.  No,  nor  would  have  done. 

But  yet  he'll  know  I  smiled  and  let  him  die, 
And  shared  his  wealth. 

IRAD.  What  justice  can  he  claim, 

Himself  more  criminal  than  thou? 

ADAH.  But  he, 

He  may  be  mighty  yonder.     Were  he  weak, 
Then  I'd  not  fear.     Fold  me  in  thy  strong  arms; 
A  horror  chills  me. 

IRAD.  Fear  not,  I  am  near. 

And  where  thou  goest  I  will  follow  too. 

ADAH.      Ah,   but  once   parted   in  the  boundless 

night 
How  shall  we  meet  again? 

IRAD.  We'll  trust  to  Heaven. 

ADAH.     A  specter  haunts  me,  a  dread,  nameless 

Nothing. 

I  call  the  dead  to  ask  them  how  they  fare, 
And  Nothing  answers.     I  would  read  the  future 


109     THE'  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

With   shuddering  heart;   and  through   the  parted 

curtain 
I  see  that  Nothing  waiting. 

IRAD.  These  are  nightmares. 

For  even  though  death  were  one  eternal  sleep, 
We've    slept    long    hours    in    life    and    held   them 

precious. 
ADAH.     We  slept  to  wake  again,  found  slumber 

here 

One  narrow  rift  between  the  blooming  days. 
What  sleep  is  that  whence  none  awaken?     Surely 
'Tis  like  no  thing  on  earth.     Oh,  I  am  faint. 

IRAD.     Canst  thou  yet  hear  me?     Speak,  or  move 

thy  hand. 

ADAH.     I  dig  my  fingers  in  the  shore  of  life, 
But  the  great  current  draws  me. 

IRAD.  Ho  there,  help ! 

[Enter  Tubal-cain.] 

Her  hand  grows  chilly. 

TUBAL.  Say  your  last  adieu. 

'Tis  come,  and  none  can  stay  it. 

IRAD.  Hast  thou  more, 

Message  or  last  petition? 

ADAH.  I  have  loved  thee. 

Forget  me  not  if  thou  dost  call  my  name, 
And  Nothing  answer.    Could  we  relive  our  lives 
Unchanged,  the  same,  how  sweet  it  were.     Goodby. 
(Dies.) 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  103 

I  RAD.     What,  is  it  ended? 

TUBAL.  Let  us  veil  her  face. 

I  RAD.     No,  wait  a  while.     The  moon  holds  down 

its  torch 

To  learn  if  this  be  death.     The  muscles  move. 
She'd  speak  again. 

TUBAL.  'Tis  the  deceiving  light. 

There,  clouds  encase  the  moon ;  and  in  the  dark 
You  cannot  hear  her  breathe. 

IRAD.  All  silent,  yes. 

TUBAL.    May  none  disturb  her  tomb. 

IRAD.  One  night  in  sport 

She    donned    my    armored    glove,    which    tight    I 

gripped, 

And  swore  to  hold  her  thus  against  a  world. 
But  playful,  slipping  back  the  hand  within, 
She  fled  and  mocked  me.    What  I  held  was  cold, 
Empty  and  hollow.     So  these  earthy  fingers 
I  hold  as  in  a  vice ;  but  that  within, 
Beyond  my  reach,  has  slipped  from  me  and  gone. 

TUBAL.     Last  daughter  of  an  ancient  line  was 

she. 

And  in  her  childless  bed  the  race  of  Cain 
Forever  ends.     Ah,  well,  'tis  better  so. 
I'm  old;  I've  watched  the  withering  world  too  long 
To  gild  illusions.     Yet  it  leaves  us  lonely, 
We  cold  survivors. 

IRAD.  "Better  so."    You  too 

Would  echo  Noah.     Never  child  shall  heir 


104     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

That  growing  curse  that  like  a  river  swelled, 
In  which  each  reckless  generation  poured 
Its  tributary  taint.    And  yet  was  not 
Her  soul  a  thing  of  wonder,  and  her  life 
A  lamp  mysterious,  lighted  from  on  high? 
Is  God  so  wasteful  when  He  plans  a  world 
Of  such  rare  marble  as  the  lives  of  men, 
He'll  count  as  worthless  rubbish  every  stone 
Found  useless  in  His  building?     Will  He  not, 
In  some  great  treasure-house  beyond  the  grave, 
Preserve  them  still,  nay,  find  them  fitting  there 
Into  some  vast  design  unhinted  here? 

TUBAL.     Think  that  which  gives  you  joy.     I've 

watched  too  long 

What  mad  economy  those  prodigals 
Who  rule  the  world  employ.     And  life  is  hewn 
From  quarries  inexhaustible,  more  cheap 
Than  any  wayside  stone,  'tis  everywhere. 
My  loves  have  quarried  out  a  thousand  blocks ; 
My  hate  has  cracked  a  thousand.     Let  it  go. 
Yet  a  few  hours  I'll  roll  into  my  grave 
Like  a  lost  pebble.      But  the  time  till  then, 
That  interval  is  mine ;  my  life  to  me 
As  precious  as  'tis  cheap  to  God.     Nay,  boy, 
Ne'er  rack  your  head  nor  break  your  heart  against 
A  granite  wall.     We'll  bury  her  in  state. 
And  then  we'll  live. 

IRAD.  .       Not  I.     The  time  is  past 

When  thus  I  reasoned.     Were  no  life  beyond, 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  105 

No  justice  here,  yet  in  my  dying  hour, 

If  I  could  feel  I'd  toiled  for  something  more 

Than  life  and  pleasure,  I'd  create  myself 

What  gods  denied,  and  dream  it  into  being ; 

Project  my  spirit  through  eternity 

From  that  one  hour  as  center,  and  drink  in 

What  earth  could  never  give,  the  blessed  sense 

Of  widening  sympathy,  the  calm  approval 

Of  that  still  monitor  who  in  our  breast 

Weighs  good  and  evil. 

TUBAL.  Where  have  you  unearthed 

This  ancient  heirloom  conscience  ?     Did  gray  Noah, 
With  other  musty  relics  of  old  days, 
Preserve  you  this  ?     I  mind  when  I  myself 
Had  such  a  plaything.     Memory's  a  strange  world. 
Sometimes  there  is  a  kind  of  phantom  boy 
Comes  from  its  realm  to  vex  me. 

IRAD.  What  was  he? 

TUBAL.     Like  and  not  like  to  me.     He  found  the 

way 

To  fuse  the  steel  from  heaven's  pelting  rocks; 
And  he  en j  oyed  some  things  that  you  and  I 
Would  find  but  tedious.     Well,  your  path  is  yours, 
And  I'll  go  mine.     Pray,  can  I  serve  you  further? 

IRAD.     Only,  I  pray  you,  see  that  none  intrude 
On  our  last  parting. 

TUBAL.  None  shall  dare.    Goodnight. 

[Exit  Tubal-cain.] 


106     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

I  RAD    (alone).      How   ghastly   in  the  moonlight 

shows  the  print 

Of  death  upon  her  features,  how  unlike 
The  rosy  glow  of  sleep,  whose  breathing  lip 
Still  murmurs  with  the  drowsy  whir  of  dreams. 
She  tells  me  nothing.     Has  she  aught  to  tell? 
Is  she  more  wise  than  I,  or  is  all  wisdom 
For  her  one  blank  ?     Shall  we  e'er  meet  again  ? 
And  should  we  dwell  in  everlasting  joy, 
Whose  joys  were  all  perverted  here,  what  pleasure, 
Acceptable  to  God,  were  sweet  to  us  ? 
Or  shall  we  change  our  inmost  nature  so 
That  what  was  dull  grows  dear,  and  former  sweet 
Becomes  abhorred  ?    Such  fundamental  change 
Would  loose  the  bonds  of  being,  and  dissolve 
All  cherished  attributes  and  human  ties. 
Or  is  all  evil  such  by  local  laws, 
Though  penal  here  permissible  elsewhere? 
In  vain  we  query,  yet  our  bankrupt  souls, 
On  earth  impoverished,  long  for  wealth  in  Heaven, 
And   knock    and    knock,    though    never    answered. 

Hark, 

Thou  God  entrenched  in  night  and  nothingness, 
Thou  God  of  Noah,  who  by  word  and  sign 
Told  him  the  Flood  would  come.    I  ask  of  Thee 
One  token  only,  which  mere  man  would  grant, 
Had  he  the  power.     If  those  You  cancel  here, 
Unfit  for  earthly  needs,  find  home  beyond, 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  107 

Grow  pure  beside  Thee  and  are  blest  indeed, 
Let  the  moon  shine  unclouded  while  I  pace 
This  chamber's  length.    But  if  in  worlds  beyond, 
Even  as  in  this,  we  prove  abortive  seed, 
And  destined  for  decay,  then  let  yon  cloud 
O'ershade  the  orb  it  neighbors,  bringing  night 
In  my  mid  journey. 

[He  paces  slowly  the  length  of  the  colonnade.     The 
moon  meanwhile  shines  uninterruptedly.] 

Shall  I  hold  it  true? 

The  windy  vapor  licked  its  golden  round, 
Yet  turned  and  blew  not  o'er  it.     Once  again, 
Great  Lord  of  Heaven,  now  I'll  change  the  sign. 
If  death  have  life  in  store,  make  dark  the  moon 
In  my  mid  path;  but  if  'tis  all  despair 
Then  keep  her  beaming. 

[He  paces  the  colonnade  again.     The  moon  shines 
uninterruptedly  as  before.] 

Ah,  'tis  even  so. 

God  needs  must  be,  else  how  had  Noah  known 
What  never  man  could  guess ;  but  that  dread  God 
Has  other  business  in  the  growing  worlds 
Than  cheering  wasted  lumber.     Be  it  so. 
Come,  thou  cold  sweetheart,  lay  thy  breast  on  mine. 
We're  something  each  to  other  yet,  or  were. 


108     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

We'll  pray  no  longer;  God's  forgotten  us 
In  the  great  plan  of  things ;  but  we,  beloved, 
We'll  not  forget.     We've  yet  some  hours  till  dawn. 

CURTAIN. 


ACT  V. 

TIME.     One  or  two  days  later. 

PLACE.  The  edge  of  the  mountain  top  not  far 
from  the  temple.  The  waters  are  almost  on  a  level 
with  it. 

[Enter  Irad  and  Tubal-cain.] 

TUBAL.     The  skies  grow  dark  anew. 

IRAD.  Their  gleam  of  light 

Was  sent  in  mockery.     Once  again  the  winds 
Blow  damp  and  boding;  clouds  entomb  the  sun, 
Reviving  night  and  fear. 

TUBAL.  Is  ocean  rising? 

IRAD.     Not  yet,  but  soon  it  must.    An  evil  grin 
Goes  wandering  o'er  its  corrugated  face, 
Anticipating  prey. 

TUBAL.  A  gruesome  sight. 

IRAD.     Ay,  is  it  not?     See  where  for  leagues  it 

stretches, 

All  flecked  with  foam,  like  mottled  pards  at  play. 
There  swim  the  rotting  planks  of  nameless  wrecks 
That  vainly  dared  the  Deluge.     Forest  trees, 
Washed  out  from  guttered  hills,  go  floating  by 
With  bones  amid  their  branches.     There  we  read 
Our  own  to-morrow. 


110     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

TUBAL.  Yonder  waits  in  ocean 

Our  old  white-bellied  friend  to  give  us  greeting. 
Well,  'tis  his  hour.  Why  should  I  tear  my  lungs 
In  the  vain  howl  for  mercy  ? 

[Music  is  heard  from  the   temple.] 

IRAD.  What  is  that? 

TUBAL.     A  knell,  or  equal.     Our  good  friends 

have  sworn, 

I  ban  and  all  the  rest,  if  death  must  come, 
To  die  like  Cainites  reveling.     Three  whole  days 
They've  kept  a  banquet  sauced  with  poison  waiting 
The  signal  of  the  sky.    They  view  it  now 
All  draped  in  death.    They're  at  their  final  feast. 
We  two  are  left. 

IRAD.  Why  drank  you  not  with  them? 

TUBAL.      The  mere  brute  instinct  hugging  life 

perhaps. 

A  tough  old  leaf  am  I,  that  tightly  clings 
Even  on  the  wintry  tree.     Or  sportsman's  blood, 
That  loves  to  fight  the  battle  out,  nor  whine 
Because  we  lose. 

IRAD.  For  two  nights  past  I've  had 

A  haunting  vision,  never  taking  shape, 
But  whispering  hope  and  comfort. 

TUBAL.  Well,  to-morrow 

You'll  test  its  prophecy. 

IRAD.  Not  so;  it  pointed 

Beyond  the  morrow.     If  it  whisper  truth 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  111 

Death's  but  a  turnstile ;  if  deluding  dream, 
Then  let  me  die  deluded;  better  so 
Than  drugged  in  drunken  stupor. 

TUBAL.  As  you  will. 

I've  caused  a  thousand  deaths,  nor  ever  asked 
About  the  future;  I'll  not  plague  it  now 
For  my  one  funeral. 

IRAD.  All  is  hushed  behind  us. 

TUBAL.     Yea,  Iban's  rhapsodies  are  done.     He 


As  often  earlier,  o'er  his  cup;  nor  knows 
What  ushers  come  to  bear  him  hence,  nor  fears 
Though  they  be  strange  and  cold. 

IRAD.  'Twere  wrong  to  leave  them 

Neglected  as  they  died  while  life  is  ours. 
Come,  let  us  lay  the  dead  in  reverent  state, 
And  say  a  last  goodby. 

TUBAL.  Small  care  have  they 

Who  wrap  their  winding  sheet  or  close  their  eyes, 
We  now,  or  ocean  soon.     But  yet  we'll  go. 

[Exeunt  Irad  and  Tubal-cain.  After  a  pause  the 
ark  of  Noah  floats  near  the  mountain  peak  and 
anchors.  Noah  appears  on  it.  Enter  Irad 
from  the  temple  with  his  head  bowed  in  emo 
tion.  ] 

IRAD.     I   had  not  thought  to  care;  but  such  a 
scene, 


112     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

The  grim  burlesque  of  joyful  banquets  gone, 
Is  ghastly  contrast.  Ha!  what's  here? 

NOAH.  Thou  being 

That  tread'st  this  lonely  eyrie,  marked  by  God 
Last  haven  for  His  chosen,  who  art  thou, 
Survivor  or  wan  phantom? 

I  RAD.  Who  I  am 

Thou  need'st  not  know  nor  question.     Weigh  thine 

anchor 

And  get  thee  gone.  This  rocky  buttress  here 
Will  crack  thy  hull  like  nutshells  if  the  wind 
But  veer  behind  thee. 

NOAH.  He  who  wields  the  wind 

With  me  is  pilot.  Thou  art  gaunt  and  worn, 
But  like  to  one  I  knew. 

IRAD.  If  thou  knew'st  good 

Spare  thy  dull  eulogy;  if  thou  knew'st  evil 
I've  suffered  that  should  make  detraction  dumb. 
My  part  in  life  is  ended;  count  me  dead, 
Nor  vex  me  more.     Land  not  thy  laughing  crew 
To  mock  our  shore  of  mourning.     Turn  thy  prow 
To  happier  havens. 

NOAH.  Art  thou  Irad? 

IRAD.  Nay, 

I'm  but  a  cipher  which  the  waves  will  wipe 
From  off  the  slate  of  being. 

NOAH.  Thou  art  he. 

Unhappy  man,  the  storms  that  wrenched  thy  life 
Have  left  their  traces. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  113 

IRAD.  Yea,  if  you  would  know  it, 

The  dead  have  had  revenge.    Didst  think  to  find  me 
Obese  and  pampered,  who  have  daily  watched 
The  death  of  all  I  loved,  and  nightly  lain 
Upon  the  rack  of  conscience  ?     But  our  nerves 
Grow  numb  with  suffering.      Speak  whate'er  you 

will; 
'Tis  naught  to  me. 

NOAH.  One  dear  to  both  of  us 

Pursued  thy  flight. 

IRAD.  Ask  not  for  him ;  God  took  him. 

I  would  have  burned  in  fire  by  inches  for  him. 
Fate  willed  not  so. 

NOAH.  Ah,  well,  we  held  him  dead; 

Yet  hope  dies  hard. 

IRAD.  God  curses  all  who  love  me. 

NOAH.     He  lives  in  heaven,  is  spared  the  lifelong 

toil 

Of  earth's  lone  pioneers.     He  died  for  thee, 
Bequeathing  thee  to  those  he  loved. 

IRAD.  Would  rather 

This  head  had  been  the  first  that  ocean  drowned ! 

NOAH.     Arm  not  thy  heart  in  this  defiant  mood, 
As  if  thy  kin  were  foes ;  nor  think  reproach 
Is  on  my  lip.    What's  done  is  done,  abhorred 
Alike  by  me  and  thee.     Thy  past  and  thou 
Be  kept  forever  separate. 

IRAD.  Would  they  were, 

That  I,  rejoicing,  like  a  babe  new-born 


114     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

Might  feel  thy  love,  if  thou  canst  love  me  still. 
But  'tis  not  so. 

NOAH.  Thy  gloom  has  tutored  thee 

To  read  all  life  awry. 

IRAD.  Nay,  rather  turned 

These  eyes  within  to  read  a  truth  severe. 
My  lesson's  learned.     I'll  blot  no  more  with  blood 
The  record  of  my  life,  which  sealed  to-night 
Goes  up  in  God's  great  archives. 

NOAH.  Heaven  forbid! 

The  wind  of  death  blows  o'er  thy  rock ;  the  waves 
Already  make  it  slippery.     Come  with  me. 
The  love  of  God  is  wide,  and  meaner  souls 
Float  here  to  safety;  why  should  one  like  thine 
Go  down  in  darkness?     Haste,  embark;  we'll  steer 
For  the  glad  haven  of  a  fairer  world. 

IRAD.     And  wilt  thou  venture  this,  remembering 
all? 

NOAH.    And  will  I  not  ?    I  left  thy  doom  to  God, 
And  God  preserved  thee.     Now  I'll  fight  no  more 
Against  the  welling  love  within  me.     Come ! 

IRAD.     Where  should   I   go?  to  lay   foundation 

deep 

For  some  new  world  to  last  till  time  is  gray  ? 
Wilt  thou  dig  up  the  grave  of  Cain,  that  thence 
The  plagues  God  buried  there  may  walk  again, 
And  taint  thy  healthy  children? 

NOAH.  These  are  words. 

Thou'rt  wild  with  want  and  suffering. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  115 

IRAD.  Nay,  I'm  wise 

With  wisdom  burned  upon  my  brain  in  fire. 
The  love  was  deep  that  would  have  sheltered  me, 
For  that  God  bless  thee.    But  my  part  in  life 
Is  all  to  cease,  my  praise  and  duty  there. 
Thou  know'st  not  what  a  cursed  heritage 
Is  blood  of  Cain.     With  me  the  evil  stream 
Goes  ever  underground.     No  child  through  time 
Shall  call  me  father ;  but  the  peopled  years 
Will  bless  my  name  that  I'd  no  part  in  them. 
In  that  I'll  know  a  patriarch's  joy.     Go  on. 
Here  I  remain. 

NOAH.  Will  God  count  one  whose  courage 

Would  die  as  martyr  for  mankind,  to  save 
The  nations  from  himself,  unworthy  saving  ? 
What  stolid  seaman,  picked  for  life  with  me, 
Had  dared  as  much? 

IRAD.  Perchance,  but,  brave  or  mean, 

Their  veins  are  full  of  growth  and  mine  decay. 
If  there  be  life  beyond  the  grave,  we'll  meet 
Where  we  may  live  forever  and  be  glad. 
If  not,  'twill  be  some  consolation  still 
To  gain  my  long-lost  reverence  for  myself, 
And  die  a  man. 

NOAH.         Thou  speak'st  like  one  whose  purpose 
Was  breathed  from  God.     Who  shall  gainsay  His 

will? 

Yet  this  gray  head  will  whiten  in  a  night 
If  here  I  leave  thee. 


116     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

I  RAD.  Mourn  not  thou  for  me. 

And  yet  forget  me  not,  for  I  may  soon 
Live  only  in  thy  love. 

NOAH.  No,  life  eternal 

Is  waiting  yonder.     God  Himself  declared  it 
By  seer  and  vision. 

IRAD.  Yea,  these  gilded  creeds, 

I  trust  them  not;  in  death  they  ring  but  hollow. 
Let  others  lull  the  heart  with  lotus  dreams 
Of  certainties  unproved,  I  scorn  their  charm. 
But  throwing  all  upon  a  gambler's  chance, 
I'll  dare  to  count  the  odds  and  yet  believe, 
In  blindness  clinging. 

NOAH.  Scorn  not  thou  religion. 

It  is  the  rainbow  where  the  light  of  truth 
Broke  up  on  human  tears,  a  thing  of  earth, 
Yet  sign  of  light  in  heaven. 

IRAD.  So  we'll  trust. 

The   winds    are    wheeling    round,    the    waves    roll 

inland, 

All  churned  in  froth  and  dotted  deep  with  rain. 
The  storm  is  here.     Begone,  nor  dare  to  tarry. 
Thou   bear'st   a   world;    wreck   not    such    precious 

freight 
By  longer  dallying. 

NOAH.  Yet  you  will  not  come? 

VOICES  FROM  THE  ARK.  There,  cut  the  anchor  or 
we're  lost !     Away ! 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  117 

IRAD  (as  the  ark  floats  away).    Farewell!  forget 

me  not !     In  our  adieu 
New  world  and  old  forever  say  goodby. 

NOAH  (from  the  distance).     God  be  thy  friend! 
We'll  meet  again  beyond. 

[Enter  Tubal-cain.] 

TUBAL.      The  night  comes   tumbling  down  like 

caving  sand, 

With  rain  and  whirlwind.  'Tis  a  noble  hour 
To  bide  here  lonely  with  the  dead.  Hello ! 
Ho,  Irad,  boy ! 

IRAD.  I'm  here. 

TUBAL.  Thy  voice  is  strange. 

Give  me  thy  hand.     Is  it  the  ocean  spray 
Makes  it  so  clammy  cold? 

IRAD.  No  ghost  am  I, 

If  that's  your  fear.     How  sweeps  before  the  wind 
The  feathery  foam;  and  bolts  begin  to  peal 
And  bicker  overhead.     Were  it  not  easy 
To  shock  with  death  beneath  such  martial  music, 
That  keys  the  will  to  battle  ?     Let  it  come ! 

TUBAL.     This  waiting  chills  the  heart.     Would 

ocean  took 

Corporeal  form  with  which  a  man  could  fight; 
Or  sent  as  champion  from  its  dismal  camp 
Some  monster  of  the  deep.    We'd  warm  our  blood 
In  deadly  grapple,  sweetening  with  revenge 
The  pang  of  dying. 


118     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

IHAD.  How  the  thunder  grows ! 

What  doors  blow  to  in  heaven  ?  who  enter  there  ? 
What  messengers  of  haste  to  tell  the  news 
That  Cain's  last  remnant  dies  to-night,  the  race 
That  vexed  the  eternal  council  is  no  more. 
Oblivion  absolute  beyond  belief 
Mows  down  their  memory.     Never  king  nor  sage 
Shall  model  laws  from  them,  nor  sculptor  view 
Their  cunning  carvings ;  bard  nor  architect 
Be  taught  by  them.     Nor  shall  the  coming  years 
Know  aught  except  that  like  a  glorious  flame 
They  burnt  and  passed  away.     Their  name  shall  be 
A  synonym  for  all  that  God  abhors ; 
And  buried  deep  beneath  the  wave-washed  hills 
Their  splendor  lie  forever,  while  the  law 
By  which  they  perished  molds  creation  still. 

FINIS. 


OTHER  POEMS 


ARMISTICE 

There  lies  a  world  far  off  in  central  space 
Where  men  have  perished  all,  and  beast  and  bird 
Have  followed  after.     Nothing  there  has  life, 
Save  the  rank  vegetation,  hiding  deep 
In  its  soft  lap  of  shade  and  living  green 
Forgotten  bones  and  tumbling  walls  of  towns. 

Here  Michael  and  the  lost  archangel  once 
Met   in   their  wanderings.     Years   had  passed  by 

thousands 

Since  their  last  meeting.     Sad  was  Satan's  face, 
And  sad  grew  Michael's  gazing.     Days  of  old 
Came  rushing  on  the  memories  of  them  both, 
When  by  the  courts  of  God  as  friend  with  friend 
They  moved,  and  conscious  strength  that  knew  no 

peer 

Save  in  each  other,  drew  their  spirits  close 
In  mutual  brotherhood,  twin  stars  of   Heaven. 

Then  Satan  spoke:  "We  meet  where  man  is  gone, 
This  bone  of  old  contention;  nought  is  here 
To  fight  for  longer ;  now  let  battle  rest. 
Come,  ancient  brother,  one  short  day  and  night 
Let  good  and  evil  be  a  thing  forgot, 
And  all  these  bitter  centuries.     Let  us  sit 
And  talk  together  here  beneath  the  trees, 
As  we  were  used  in  Heaven  long  ago." 

And  Michael  answered  not,  but  doubting  stood; 


122     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

Then  Satan  took  the  angel's  harp,  and  sang 
To  music  sad  a  song  of  meaning  strange. 

And  dost  thou  shrink  to  clasp  thy  hand  in  mine? 
We  both  are  servants  of  the  will  Divine, 
And  thou  shalt  know  it  well  by  proof  and  sign 

In  that  far  day  when  all  shall  have  reward. 
Nor  saviour  here  art  thou,  nor  tempter  I, 
For  all  the  race  of  man  are  things  gone  by; 
None  curse  me  here  beneath  this  empty  sky; 

Why  dost  thou  linger,  why  am  I  abhorred? 

Nor  good  nor  evil  dwells  in  stones  and  herbs, 
Or  where  the  hand  of  God  the  thunder  curbs ; 
Nor  good  nor  ill  the  ocean's  deep  disturbs ; 

In  man  alone  we  ever  met  and  warred; 
Sweet  peace  was  ours  before  his  race  began; 
Harsh  battle  since  through  all  the  ages  ran; 
Now  in  this  world  that  hears  no  more  of  man 

Why  dost  thou  linger,  why  am  I  abhorred  ? 

Worlds,   worlds   enough  there   are  where  we   may 

meet 

To  war  in  peopled  square  and  clashing  street; 
But  now  one  hour  of  armistice  were   sweet, 

In  deserts  wide  one  fount  with  living  sward. 
Thou  knowest  not  what  lonely  things  we  are, 
Cold  shadows  from  the  Light  that  walks  afar. 
Come,  brother,  come ;  no  cause  is  here  for  war. 

Why  dost  thou  linger,  why  am  I  abhorred? 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  123 

Thus  sang  the  Soul  of  Mystery,  and  prevailed. 
And  all  day  long  upon  a  grassy  knoll. 
Princes  of  good  and  evil  now  no  more, 
But  friend  with  friend,  they  rested.     Far  below 
In  a  great  valley  lay  the  skeletons 
Of  some  old  battle,  whelmed  in  weeds  and  fern, 
And  roots  of  banyans  curled  around  their  bones. 
Northward,    a    huge    square    mass    of    shimmering 

green, 

Its  corners  beveled  by  the  wind  and  rain, 
Vine-clad  a  crumbling  fortress  lay.     No  flag 
Fluttered  above  its  ramparts;  none  could  tell 
If  this  were  tyrant's  hold  or  Freedom's  shrine. 
Southward  a  heap  of  grassy  mounds  proclaimed 
Where  once  had  been  a  city ;  homes  and  baths, 
Soft  haunts  of  luring  sin  and  dungeons  dread, 
And  churches  towering  Godward, — all  were  now 
But  tangled  hillocks  and  the  mantling  brier. 
The  upas  dripped  its  poison  on  the  ground 
Harmless;  the  silvery  veil  of  fog  went  up 
From  moldering  fen  and  cold,  malarial  pool, 
But  brought  no  taint  and  threatened  ill  to  none. 
Far  off,  adown  the  mountain's  craggy  side 
From  time  to  time  the  avalanche  thundered^  sound 
ing 

Like  sport  of  giant  children,  and  the  rocks 
Whereon  it  smote  re-echoed  innocently. 
Then  in  the  silence  Lucifer  again 
Struck  music  from  the  angel's  harp  and  sang. 


124     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

I  am  the  shadow  that  the  sunbeams  bring, 
I  am  the  thorn  from  which  the  roses  spring ; 
Without  the  thorn  would  be  no  blossoming, 

Nor  were  there  shadow  if  there  were  no  gleam. 
I  am  a  leaf  before  a  wind  that  blows, 
I  am  the  foam  that  down  tke  current  goes ; 
I  work  a  work  on  earth  that  no  man  knows, 

And  God  works  too, — I  am  not  what  I  seem. 

There  comes  a  purer  morn,  whose  stainless  glow 
Shall  cast  no  shadow  on  the  ground  below, 
And  fairer  flowers  without  the  thorn  shall  blow, 

And  earth  at  last  fulfill  her  parent's  dream. 
Oh,  race  of  men  who  sin  and  know  not  why, 
I  am  as  you,  and  you  are  even  as  I ; 
We  all  shall  die  at  length,  and  gladly  die; 

Yet  even  our  deaths  shall  be  not  what  they  seem. 

Then  Michael  raised  the  golden  lyre,  and  struck 
A  note  more  solemn  soft,  and  made  reply. 

There  dwelt  a  doubt  within  my  mind  of  yore, 
I  sought  to  end  that  doubt  and  labored  sore ; 
But  now  I  search  its  mystery  no  more, 

But  leave  it  safe  within  the  Eternal's  hand. 
The  tiger  hunts  the  lamb  and  yearns  to  kill, 
Himself  by  famine  hunted,  fiercer  still; 
And  much  there  is  that  seems  unmingled  ill ; 

But  God  is  wise,  and  God  can  understand. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  125 

All  things  on  earth  in  endless  balance  sway, 
Day  chases  night  and  night  succeeds  the  day; 
And  so  the  powers  of  good  and  evil  may 

Work  out  the  purpose  that  His  wisdom  planned. 
Eternal  day  would  parch  the  dewy  mold, 
Eternal  night  would  freeze  the  lands  with  cold; 
But  wise  was  God  who  planned  the  world  of  old; 

I  rest  in  Him,  for  He  can  understand. 

Yet  good  and  evil  still  their  wills  oppose; 
And,  serving  both,  we  still  must  serve  as  foes 
On  yon  far  globe  that  teems  with  human  woes ; 

And  Sin  thou  art,  though  God  work  through  thy 

hand. 

But  here  the  race  of  man  is  now  no  more ; 
The  task  is  done,  the  long  day's  work  is  o'er; 
One  hour  I'll  dream  thee  what  thou  wert  of  yore, 

Though  changed  thou  art,  too  changed  to  under 
stand. 

All  day  sat  Michael  there  with  Lucifer, 
Talking  of  things  unknown  to  men,  old  tales 
And  memories  dating  back  beyond  all  time. 
And  all  night  long  beneath  the  lonely  stars, 
That  watched  no  more  the  sins  of  man,  they  lay, 
The  angel's  lofty  face  at  rest  against 
The  dark  cheek  scarred  with  thunder.      Morning 

came, 

And  each  departed  on  his  separate  way; 
But  each  looked  back  and  lingered  as  he  passed. 


126     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 


THE   "MAN-EATER" 

The  night  is  calm,  nor  threatens  ill, 
Save  where  two  glow-worms  glimmer  still 

In  shadows  distant. 
Unmoving  while  the  moments  go, 
Beyond  the  Kaffirs'  tents  they  glow, 

Bright,  strange,  insistent. 

Beneath  the  moonlight's  ghostly  hush 
Low  crouches  in  the  lonely  brush 

A  figure  tawny, 

Like  some  old  sphinx  in  granite  carved, 
With  hollow  flank  and  visage  starved, 
And  muscles  brawny. 

Patient,  as  heathen  priests  of  eld 
Round  gods  of  blood  their  vigil  held, 

He  waits  unsleeping, 
Yet  tense  as  springs  of  bended  steel, 
With  lip  drawn  back  and  planted  heel, 

His  vigil  keeping. 

A  fearful  god  he  worships  there, 
To  whom  our  fathers  offered  prayer 

When  earth  was  younger, 
A  power  for  whom  those  burning  eyes 
Are  altar  lamps  of  sacrifice, 

The  god  of  hunger. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  127 


EARLY  DEATH 

Down  in  the  grasses  that  girdle  the  stream 

Sits  she  in  light  where  the  summer  is  warm, 
Claiming  the  promise  of  maidenhood's  dream, 

Weaving  the  wonders  the  future  may  form. 
Daisies  in  dozens  are  round  on  the  mold, 
One  she  has  plucked  and  its  petals  has  told 
To  a  rime  that  her  grandmother  chanted  of  old. 

Rich  man — poor  man — beggar  man — thief, 
Doctor — lawyer — merchant — chief. 

Which  shall  it  be  that  the  sibyls  unfold, 
Hero  or  hireling^  the  weak  or  the  well, 

Poverty's  shadow  or  sunshine  of  gold? 
Nay,  I  could  tell  thee  but  shudder  to  tell. 

Wan  are  thy  features  and  wistful  to  see; 

Others  may  dream  of  a  bridegroom  to  be, 

But  what  have  such  maidens  in  common  with  thee? 

Rich  man — poor  man — beggar  man — thief, 
Doctor — lawyer — merchant — chief. 

Rich  is  he,  rich  with  the  plunder  of  time, 
Poor  in  the  pity  a  lover  should  bring, 

Beggar  he  is  for  the  joy  of  thy  prime, 

Thief  of  thy  youth  and  the  dream  of  thy  spring; 

Doctor  he  is  who  all  sorrow  can  heal, 

Lawyer  whose  pleading  no  tongue  can  gainsay, 


128     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

Merchant  whose  traffic  no  lip  may  reveal, 

Chieftain  of  chieftains  whom  all  must  obey. 
Slowly  drop  through  thy  fingers  lean 
Petal  and  prophecy, — can  it  mean 
That    thou    knowest    the    bridegroom    who    comes 
unseen  ? 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  129 

VOICES  FROM  ELFLAND 

I.     THE  APPEAL  OF  THE  FAIRIES 

We  make  our  home  among  the  gurgling  brooks, 
Or  through  the  woods  beneath  the  fragrant  pine ; 
We  tent  beneath  the  autumn  leaves,  and  float 
O'er  star-lit  lake  on  flower  and  walnut  shell. 

A  happy  life  is  ours,  we  never  knew 
The  pain  or  grief  or  care  that  mortals  know, 
Nor  ever  steeped  within  our  bubbling  cup 
The  stagnant  herb  of  bitter  melancholy. 

Yet  oft  the  groans  of  mortals,  and  the  breath 
Of  passionate  storms  that  shake  their  spirits,  come 
To  jar  our  placid  world.    The  victim's  blood 
Flows  gross  and  feverish  from  his  burning  heart 
Around  our  dewy  grass;  and  everywhere 
We  hear  the  voice  of  aspirations  vain, 
Till  the  hot  air  is  from  your  cities  blown 
As  from  a  prairie  fire.     We  come  to  loathe 
Your  fierce  extremes,  your  hate,  your  sultry  kiss, 
Your  joys  that  burn  themselves  to  pain,  your  all. 
We  hate  your  crucifix,  for  there  survives 
Man's  endless  anguish  on  the  dying  face; 
We  hate  your  creed,  which  forces  on  our  lives 
Your  alien  sorrows ;  grief  has  made  your  drops 
Of  holy  water  scald  like  burning  tears. 

Sweet  flow  the  hours  when  ye  are  far  away ; 


130     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

Beneath  the  moon  we  lie  at  rest,  and  breathe 
The  scent  of  leaf  and  blade,  and  water-falls 
Made  pure  by  winnowing  air.     And  blest  it  was, 
Ere  man  had  lived,  o'er  earth  to  roam  at  will 
By  tranquil  lake  and  laughing  sea,  and  valleys 
Where  never  grave  was  dug  nor  tear  was  shed, 
While  yet  the  world  was  ours,  nor  yet  had  come 
With  you  the  clamorous  war  of  sense  and  soul. 

Mad  creatures,  mixed  of  clay  and  fire,  whose  eyes 
Are  blinded  with  your  tears,  whose  ears  are  deaf 
With  dying  sobs,  that  ye  nor  see  nor  hear 
When  hills  are  fair  and  cataracts  call  aloud, 
What  do  ye  in  this  lovely  world  of  ours  ? 
Here,  like  a  stranded  fish  or  drowning  bird, 
With  glazing  eyes,  in  foreign  wonderlands 
Ye  pant  for  wonders  in  far,  kindred  worlds, 
And  live  not  here  nor  there.     Then  leave  to  us 
This  earth,  whose  use  you  never  understand. 
Here,  when  your  stormy  race  has  ceased  to  be, 
On  moon-lit  nights  our  happy  feet  will  dance 
Above  your  grassy  hillocks,  undisturbed 
By  those  burnt  ashes  from  Prometheus'  torch. 

II.     THE  STOLEN  CHILD 

Beneath  the  reddening  oak  tree  Margery  found 
A  crowd  of  little  people,  some  in  green, 
And  some  in  red  and  brown.     In  the  faint  light 
Their  dress  seemed  all  of  withered  autumn  leaves. 
The  dim,  gray  twilight  and  the  starbeams  mixed 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  131 

Above  their  quaint,  peaked  faces,  and  grotesque 
Unchildlike  forms,  that  yet  were  childish  small. 

Then  one  among  them  blew  a  trumpet  flower ; 
And  all  the  rest  from  harps  of  elder,  strung 
With  spider's  film,  or  else  through  flutes  of  grass 
Sent  up  a  piping  music,  mixed  with  song. 

"Come,  little  princess,  come  with  us,"  they  sang; 
"We  waited  long;  and  long  has  waited  too 
Your  happy  home  with  us,  your  fairy  home. 
"Tis  dark  and  none  will  miss  you.     Sweet  it  is 
In  elfland.     Little  princess,  come  with  us. 

Our  fathers  lived  with  yours  in  Paradise 
Ere  Adam  sinned ;  brothers  they  were,  so  close 
Were  once  our  bloods.     We  are  the  only  race 
Who  never  ate  the  sad  Forbidden  Tree. 
Man  ate,  and  good  and  evil  tear  him  daily; 
The  angels  ate,  and  even  their  joys  are  stern; 
And  Satan  ate,  we  will  not  talk  of  him, 
Nor  know  him.     Little  princess,  come  with  us. 

But  all  the  elves  through  all  the  years  have  lived 
Like  happy  children;  still  for  us  alone 
The  old  untainted  Eden  breathes  from  clumps 
Of  hazel  thicket  or  from  running  brook, 
Or  orchards  dropping  with  the  peach  and  pear. 
Where  evil  is  not  is  no  need  of  good; 
And  where  nor  good  nor  evil  is,  is  peace 
And  peaceful  dream,  all  the  sweet,  innocent  joy 
Of  childhood.     Little  princess,  come  with  us. 

You  are  our  cousin,  so  we  come  to  love  you; 


132     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

You  dream  like  us,  and  so  we  understand  you ; 
You  are  a  child,  we'll  keep  you  so  forever. 
If  you  grow  old  with  men,  the  fatal  juice 
Of  that  sad  Tree  will  work  within  your  veins 
Hopes  never  satisfied,  and  maddening  storms 
You  wish  not.     Little  princess,  come  with  us." 

Dusk  deepened  into  night,  and  morning  came ; 
But  Margery  came  not,  nor  was  seen  again. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  133 


THE  LAST  NIGHT  OF  CAPUA 


Far  off  beneath  the  stars 
Camped  cold  on  dewy  grass 

The  wolf-nursed  brood  of  Mars, 
Hacked  helm  and  stained  cuirass, 
And  shields  of  dinted  brass. 

The  old  centurion's  cheek 

Wrinkled  with  laughter  grim; 

"Dream-children  of  the  Greek^ 
Who  soften  heart  and  limb 
O'er  lyre  and  bumper's  brim, 

"Ye  had  your  gold  and  pearls, 
Your  feast  and  perfumed  bath, 

Your  song  and  laughing  girls; 
Ye  had,  the  Roman  hath; 
Now  wake  and  feel  his  wrath. 

"Strength  rules  the  world  and  will, 
The  strength  despising  joy 

That  lives  but  to  fulfill; 

Such  force  shall  Rome  employ 
To  build,  or  to  destroy." 


134     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 
II 

High  arched  the  halls  and  rich 
O'er  gem  and  purple  gown; 

From  fount  and  graven  niche 
The  marble  gods  looked  down 
On  those  in  Capua's  town. 

Rare  wine  in  golden  bowls 
The  mantling  poison  held, 

While  o'er  their  parting  souls 
Luxurious  music  swelled, 
Their  sires  had  loved  of  eld. 

"Farewell  to  life,"  they  cried, 
"To  Rome  defiant  scorn; 

Like  men  we  lived  and  died, 
And  drank  from  Plenty's  horn 
Glad  night  and  joyous   morn. 

"White  arms  have  lulled  our  rest, 
Old  wine  has  warmed  our  veins ; 

We  shared  with  friend  and  guest 
Carved  hall  and  chiming  strains, 
And  all  that  Greece  contains. 

"Jeer  on,  ye  Roman  powers, 
Who  toil,  ye  know  not  why; 

The  wiser  choice  was  ours, 
Strength  to  be  glad  and  die; 
Sweet  were  the  days  gone  by. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  135 

"Life's  fairest  gift  we  gained, 

Soft  bliss  and  golden  ease; 
Now  that  the  cup  is  drained 

Let  Rome  enjoy  the  lees." 

So  darkness  covered  these. 


136     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 


THE   COMING  OF   PEACE 

"When  cometh  Peace?"  the  heathen  wailed  of  old 

From  rack  and  blazing  home;  and  God  replied: 
"Not  yet,  while  passions  fierce  and  uncontrolled 

Make  Peace  a  nation's  harlot,  not  a  bride. 
Not  while  the  pang  that  searches  nerve  and  vein 

Alone  can  rouse  to  life  the  stagnant  soul 
In  brutal  lands,  where  ease  from  war  and  strain 

But  heralds  lust  and  fills  the  drunkard's  bowl." 

"When  cometh  Peace?"  went  up  the  Orient's  groan. 

Not  yet,  while  life  becomes  it  own  worst  foe 
With  teeming  birth,  and  War's  red  axe  alone 

Through  human  forest  hews  the  room  to  grow; 
Not  yet,  while  power  is  still  the  victim's  dream, 

And  tyranny  the  meanest  slave's  delight, 
Where  Tamerlane  and  Ghengis  Khan  but  seem 

Composite  pictures   of  the  men  they   smite. 

"When  cometh  Peace?"  is  now  the  world's  appeal. 

Not  yet,  though  far  her  hastening  steps  we  hear ; 
Not  while  her  bristling  angels,  armed  in  steel, 

On  cowering  lands  impose  the  truce  of  fear, 
Not  while  we  force  a  code  on  murmuring  foes 

Which  our  own  rulers  violate  and  annul; 
Not  while  the  only  peace  each  nation  knows 

Would  give  themselves  the  Land  Debatable. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  137 

"When  cometh  Peace?"     Upon  the  mountains  now 

Those  beauteous  feet  the  gladsome  tidings  bear; 
But  I  shall  see  her  bridal  not,  nor  thou; 

Nor  man  shall  win  till  man  has  learned  to  wear. 
No  cry  of  bards,  no  long-conferring  kings 

Shall  ever  make  the  battle's  thunder  dumb; 
When  winter's  blasts  are  o'er  the  violet  springs, 

When  earth  is   ripe  for  Peace  then  Peace  will 
come. 


138     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 


THOUGHTS    ON    OPENING    WEBSTER'S 
DICTIONARY 

I  turn  with  awe  this  ponderous  volume  o'er, 
This  household  counselor,  these  finely  wrought 

And  hammered  keys  that  open  door  on  door 

Through  the  vast  treasury  of  a  people's  thought. 

I  linger  here  o'er  Milton's  quoted  phrase 
As  Indian  rajahs  o'er  a  diamond  may, 

And  see  sometimes  within  its  facets  blaze 

A  gleam  that  flashed  from  God's  eternal  day. 

And  these  old  roots  of  words,  that  seem  to  stand 
So  dull  and  dry  upon  the  printed  page, 

Take  on  beneath  imagination's  hand 

The  charm  of  history  and  the  rime  of  age. 

Here's  evolution  more  than  Darwin  taught 
In  these  ancestral  footprints;  here  behold 

The  spirit  growth  of  nations,  word  and  thought 
Developing  each  other  from  of  old. 

What  spirit  first  upon  his  lonely  beach 
Felt  solitude  like  ocean  round  him  roll, 

And  launched  the  ships  of  passion-laden  speech, 
Columbus-like,  to  find  a  brother  soul? 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  139 


What    words    were    those   that    ventured   outward 
bound, 

Those  clumsy  craft,  those  first  rude  pioneers, 
Where  now  the  mighty  galleons  of  sound 

Waft  on  the  thought  of  twice  a  thousand  years  ? 

Were  they  the  brute's  low  call  of  pain  and  greed, 
Or  sounds  man  echoed  back  and  knew  not  why  ? 

Or  growing  notes  to  voice  a  growing  need, 
Like  Caliban's  half- formulated  cry? 

And  through  the  centuries  since  what  change  was 

here 

As  click  and  guttural's  broken  hints  were  turned 
To  spirit-molded  music,  breathing  clear, 

To    bear    what     Plato     dreamed     and     Newton 
learned. 

Still  'mid  the  minds  that  think  and  hearts  that  feel, 
Expressing  what  was  never  yet  expressed, 

New  ships  of  sound  are  launched  on  chiming  keel, 
To  bear  some  new  Columbus  through  the  west. 

Still  many  a  word  is  token  and  no  more, 

Frail  envoy  of  a  thought  no  speech  can  bear ; 

Who  shall  interpret,  say,  these  letters  four, 

This  one  word  "Life"?     The  universe  is  there. 


140     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 


Or  take  this  other,  "Love";  its  meanings  go 

From   height   to    depth   through  vast  creation's 
whole, 

From  flowers  that  waft  their  pollen  to  and  fro 
To  God's  all-seeing  eye  and  moving  soul. 

And  here,  the  joy  of  life,  the  balm  of  death, 
The  star  of  martyrs,  comfort  of  mankind, 

Is  this  word  "Faith,"  a  syllable,  a  breath, 

A  marsh-fire's  lamp,  and  boundless  night  behind. 

Brave  Webster,  noble  Webster,  you  did  well; 

But   yet   through  many  a   year   must   language 

grow 
Ere  man  to  man  shall  have  the  power  to  tell 

One  half  the  things  that  now  we  think  we  know. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  141 


A  VISION  OF  EVIL 

I  saw  a  realm  at  midnight  still, 

(Who  knows  if  this  be  dream  or  true?) 
Where  earth's  discarded  souls  of  ill 

The  scorn  of  God  together  blew. 
There  floats  unceasing  to  and  fro 

The  chaff  from  heaven's  threshing  floor, 
Through  endless  ages  waning  slow, 

For  evil  fades  for  evermore. 

They  waste  like  leaves  on  winter's  tree; 

(Who  knows  if  this  be  dream  or  true?) 
The  newly  come  are  fair  to  see, 

As  when  they  walked  with  me  and  you. 
But  souls  of  eld  are  faint  and  thin 

Like  vapors  blown  on  ocean  shore, 
And  life  is  moldering  deep  within, 

For  evil  fades  for  evermore. 

There  moves  Napoleon  splendid  still, 

(Who  knows  if  this  be  dream  or  true?) 
With  flashing  eyes  and  kingly  will, 

As  when  he  rode  to  Waterloo. 
But  Timur  scarce  has  form  of  man, 

And  pride  and  memory  all  are  o'er; 
The  stars  gleam  through  his  phantom  wan, 

For  evil  fades  for  evermore. 


142     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

The  queen  Antonius  loved  and  kissed, 

(Who  knows  if  this  be  dream  or  true?) 
Is  thinner  now  than  parting  mist. 

And  mind  and  will  have  withered  too. 
And  nought  is  left  of  Priam's  boy, 

Who  drew  the  ships  to  Ilion's  shore, 
For,  sinful  wrath  or  selfish  joy, 

All  evil  fades  for  evermore. 

And  round  them  moves,  a  ghostly  blur, 

(Who  knows  if  this  be  dream  or  true?) 
The  Soul  of  Evil,  Lucifer, 

As  he  has  done  the  ages  through. 
He  thinks  no  more  of  thrones  and  wars, 

No  trace  is  his  of  glory  o'er; 
He  floats  like  fog  across  the  stars, 

His  power  is  fading  evermore. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  143 


WASTED  SEEDS 

The  seed  that  never  grew 

Had  life  within  the  germ; 
But  skies  withheld  their  dew, 

And  fields  but  gave  the  worm ; 
What  matter?     Earth  has  seeds  to  spare  and  not  a 

few. 

The  soul  that  never  bloomed 

Had  dreams  of  God  within; 
But  want  its  life  consumed, 

And  curse  for  others'  sin; 
What   matter?      Earth    has    souls    enough   though 

these  were  doomed. 

The  tribe  that  fades  away 

Had  visions  fair  as  we; 
But  withered  stalks  are  they, 

Whose  race  shall  cease  to  be ; 
What   matter?      Earth   has   tribes   enough  though 

these  decay. 

What  matter?     Yet  the  cry 

Goes  up  and  is  not  stilled; 
Life's  verdure  waxes  high 

Where  love  and  wisdom  tilled; 
But  who  shall  hush  the  sob  of  wasted  seeds  that  die? 


144     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 


THE  BUTTERFLY 

THE  MAN 

Dancer  throned  at  Summer's  board, 

Butterfly, 
Even  while  thy  wine  is  poured 

Death  is  nigh. 
One  short  hour  of  balm  and  sun 

Thou  hast  had; 
Lo,  at  thy  feast  the  skeleton; 

Why  so  glad? 

THE   INSECT 

Hast  thou  ever  known  extreme 

Joys  and  fears? 
Did  not  then  a  moment  seem 

Like  to  years  ? 
When  thy  heart  was  keen  with  grief, 

Or  with  glee, 
Were  not  hours  to  others  brief 

Long  for  thee? 
Time's  a  word ;  whole  worlds  are  found 

In  drops  of  dew, 
And  eternity's  vast  round 

In  moments   few. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  145 

While  I  sip  the  wine  of  youth 

From  the  cup, 
Dreams  that  last  as  long  as  truth 

Bubble  up. 
Ages  past  and  more  to  come 

Live  I  through 
While  but  once  the  pendulum 

Swings  for  you. 
When  I  part  from  summer's  beam, 

Leaf  and  flower, 
All  eternity  will  seem 

But  an  hour. 

THE  MAN 

Art  thou  fly  or  Psyche,  thou, 

Learned  so  deep? 
What  do  human  spirits  now, 

Do  they  sleep? 

THE   INSECT 

Fly  or  Psyche,  who  can  tell? 

A  voice  am  I, 
Speaking  things  you  shall  know  well 

By  and  by. 
Life  for  me  will  be  forgot 

When  I  am  through ; 
You  must  ask  your  Father  what 

It  is  for  you. 


146     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

Yet  if  they  sleep,  a  dream  has  blest 

The  eyes  that  slept 
Which  all  eternity  compressed 

Within  it  kept. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  147 


THE  ORIOLE 

Chorister  of  air, 

On  the  bough  of  spring, 
What  melodious  throat  and  where 

Taught  thee  thus  to  sing? 
From  what  isle  remote 

Out  of  man's  control, 
Came  thy  clear,  untroubled  note, 
Oriole? 

What  did  Eden  lose 

That  doth  here  endure, 

Gushing  forth  as  waters  ooze, 
Effortless  and  pure? 

Why  can  I  not  know, 
God  in  shape  and  role, 

Whence  thy  heart  rejoices  so, 
Oriole  ? 

When  God  made  thy  brain 

Like  a  silver  bell, 
Forged  He  other  nerves  of  pain, 

Other  joys  as  well? 
Was  the  dream  that  poured 

Music  in  thy  soul 
Older  than  the  Flaming  Sword, 
Oriole? 


148     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 


Nay,  too  surely,  bird, 

More  thy  song  conveyed 
Through  this  human  brain  that  heard 

Than  the  brain  that  made. 
Not  thy  voice,  but  one 

Echoing  in  my  soul, 
Hints  all  truth,  revealing  none, 
Oriole. 

Yet  at  Wisdom's  feet 

Was  learned  thy  mimic  trill; 
Soulless  echoes  thus  repeat 

God  on  Horeb's  hill. 
Deep  in  learning's  maze 

Delve  we  like  the  mole; 
Thou  hast  drunk  the  Maker's  days, 
Oriole. 

Truths  there  are  that  here 

Reason  cannot  find, 
Where  her  eyes  are  piercing  clear, 

Nathless  color-blind. 
Lights  there  are  whose  hues 

Change   creation's   whole, 
Which  thy  thoughtless  song  renews, 
Oriole. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  149 


Music  like  thy  staves 

Surely  ne'er  can  flow 
From  our  gilded  galley-slaves, 

Living  but  to  row. 
Mightier  lamps  are  dark, 

Dry  wick  and  empty  bowl; 
What  oil  has  fed  thy  tiny  spark, 
Oriole? 

God,  whose  fingers  press 

Life's  unthinking  keys, 
Pouring  thoughts  that  none  express 

Through  such  pipes  as  these, 
When  the  skies  are  rent 

Like  a  rending  scroll 
Tell  me  what  Thy  music  meant, 
Thy  oriole. 


150     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 


THE  NIGHT-WATCH 

(From  a  painting  representing  lions  prowling  at 
night  around  the  ruins  of  Nineveh.) 

Slowly  at  midnight  lone 
Round  dust  and  nodding  stone 
Of  Nineveh  o'erthrown 

The  night-watch  makes  its  round, 
Bright  burning  eyes  of  awe, 
Low  purr  and  stealthy  paw, 
Soldiers  that  know  no  law 

Which  man  has  found. 

Well  might  the  Buddhist  seer 
Think  buried  kings  severe 
Came  back  incarnate  here 

In  kindred  beasts  of  prey. 
And  so  we  too  the  while, 
Half  with  a  doubting  smile, 
May  dream,  while  that  grim  file 

Moves  on  its  way. 

Speak,  thou  mysterious  guard, 
Lank  cheek  and  body  scarred, 
Find  ye  your  penance  hard 
Through  all  this  vast  of  time, 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  151 

Souls  of  the  kings  of  eld, 
Who  against  God  rebelled, 
Proud  of  the  realms  ye  held, 
Drunken  with  crime? 

Where  now  your  answers  glib, 
Starved  throat  and  hollow  rib, 
Long-fanged  Sennacherib, 

Tiglath  with  yellow  mane? 
What  wine  has  vengeance  poured 
In  realms  yet  unexplored 
For  those  who  by  the  sword 

Slay  and  are  slain? 

Say,  has  a  power  been  found 

More  strong  than  monarchs  crowned? 

Have  those  sharp  swords  you  ground 

Failed  there,  so  mighty  here? 
Have  ye  no  truth  to  tell 
Might  fit  the  present  well, 
Where  still  your  sons  would  swell 

The  reign  of  fear? 

Here  where  your  wine  ye  quaffed, 
At  captives'  anguish  laughed, 
And  notched  the  hunter's  shaft, 

What  thoughts  to-night  are  yours? 
Cannot  those  silent  jaws 
Ope  once  in  Mercy's  cause, 
To  tell  us  God  has  laws 

And  God  endures? 


152     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

Pass  on  with  stealthy  tread, 
Brutes  ravening  to  be  fed, 
Or  souls  of  tyrants  dead, 

Whiche'er  ye  be,  goodnight. 
O'er  Nineveh's  decay 
For  lions  comes  the  day, 
And  for  dead  kings  the  sway 

Of  Peace  and  Right. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  153 


SHAKESPEARE   TO   IMOGEN 

Dear  saint,  my  soul  was  marred  and  stained 

That  built  thy  shrine; 
But  holy,  sweet,  and  unprofaned 

It  treasured  thine. 

Let  this  reveal  while  I  and  thou 

Through  years  endure, 
How  worldly,  sinful  men  may  bow 

To  women  pure. 

Thou  art  not  I,  but  art  of  me, 

My  child  of  thought, 
The  thing  that  I  had  longed  to  be, 

And  yet  was  not. 


154     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

TRUTH 

Truth  veiled  her  face  from  men 

In  days  of  eld ; 
Glimpses  alone  since  then 

Have  we  beheld. 

The  Hebrew  moved  aside 

That  curtain's  fold; 
"Worship  is  truth/'  he  cried 

O'er  rituals  old. 

The  Greek  with  trembling  hand 

That  face  laid  bare; 
What  he  could  understand 

Was  Beauty  there. 

Her  veil  the  Roman  drew 

With  martial  awe; 
He  saw  but  what  he  knew, 

And  whispered,  "Law." 

The  monk  of  Europe  dreamed 

In  cloisters  dim; 
As  inward  vision  seemed 

Her  face  to  him. 

And  we  in  glimpses  rare 

On  that  high  brow, 
O'er  rights  that  all  may  share 

See  Freedom  now. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  155 

Ah,  Truth,  the  world's  long  dream 

But  shows  us  thee 
As  in  some  whirling  stream 

The  stars  we  see. 

Sweet  face  in  fragments  glassed 

On  waves  that  break, 
Who  shall  from  these  at  last 

Thy  image  make  ? 


156     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

THE  DIVINE  COMEDY  OF  TO-DAY 

INFERNO 

Three  faces  in  the  crowd; 

What  saw'st  thou  there? 

Like  Farinata's  one  was  scarred  and  proud, 
And  still  for  all  its  pride  left  quivering  bare 

Sin's  agonized  despair. 

PURGATORIO 

Three  souls  amid  the  crowd; 

They  passed  like  dreams; 
With  tearful  eyes  the  second  head  was  bowed ; 
But  o'er  it  shone,  like  light  on  bitter  streams, 

The  sorrow  that  redeems. 

PARADISO 

Three  worlds  amid  the  crowd, 

So  near  yet  far; 

Joy  kindled  all  the  third  like  burning  cloud; 
Love  rose,  like  Beatrice  from  her  mystic  car, 

To  lead  from  star  to  star. 

Three  faces  in  the  crowd, 

Life  old  and  new. 

Oh,  soul  of  Dante,  thus  by  God  endowed, 
Six  centuries  men  have  lived  and  died  since  you; 

And  yet  your  song  is  true. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  157 


A  FAIRY  STORY 

"Now  tell  me  why  is  your  hair  so  white, 

You  stern  old  man  from  across  the  way; 
And  why  did  you  wait  so  long  to-night 

By  the  grassy  grave  where  the  roses  lay?" 
"You  are  young,  my  child,  and  to  understand 

You  must  live  and  suffer  -for  many  a  day; 
Come,  I'll  tell  you  a  story  of  fairy  land, 

To  help  you  in  whiling  the  hours  away." 

Far  under  the  wilds  of  the  storm-swept  snow 

In  the  silent  caves  of  the  Northern  Pole, 
Where  over  the  plains  the  whirlwinds  blow, 

Was  the  home  of  the  elf-king  Imranole. 
All  bright  with  silver  and  veined  with  gold 

Were   those   caverns    hammered   by   gnome   and 

troll; 
But  lonely  ever  and  wintry  cold 

Was  the  heart  of  the  elfin  Imranole. 
But  once  on  a  night  that  was  fierce  with  frost, 

When  the  ice  would  burn  you  like  burning  coal, 
A  mortal  maiden,  whose  way  was  lost, 

Came,  none  know  how,  to  the  Northern  Pole. 
The  icicles  hung  in  her  yellow  hair 

As  her  trembling  feet  o'er  the  threshold  stole; 
Without  was  the  dark  and  the  polar  bear, 

And  she  made  her  dwelling  with  Imranole. 


158     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

Never  a  whisper  nor  mortal  sound 

Was  heard  in  those  caves  of  the  Northern  Pole, 
Where  the  maiden  sat  as  the  years  rolled  round, 

Taught  and  tended  by  gnome  and  troll, 
Till  her  terror  died,  and  a  mighty  love 

Over  her  heart  like  music  stole; 
And  the  bridal  lamps  gleamed  bright  above, 

As  she  knelt  by  her  lover,  soul  to  soul. 
But  there  came  a  call  from  the  realms  of  death, 

From  the  God  of  Sorrows,  whom  none  control, 
So  hard  is  heaven  to  earth  beneath; 

And  she  died  on  the  bosom  of  Imranole. 
They  laid  her  deep  in  the  frozen  clay, 

And  heaped  the  snow  in  a  wintry  knoll, 
Where  the  Northern  Lights  at  midnight  play 

O'er  the  buried  bride  of  the  Northern  Pole. 
And  there  when  the  winds  blow  wild  and  bleak 

From  ancient  glacier  and  icy  shoal, 
The  tear  drops  freeze  on  the  withered  cheek 

Of  a  lonely  watcher, — 'tis  Imranole. 
His  hair  streams  white  on  the  howling  blast, 

And  his  beard  waves  white,  like  a  floating  scroll ; 
And  I  know  his  grief  by  a  sorrow  past, 

And  the  silent  bond  of  a  kindred  soul. 

"But  really,  truly,  and  was  it  so, 

You  stern  old  man  from  across  the  way? 

And  why  is  your  voice  so  strange  and  low, 
And  why  are  you  crying  at  what  you  say?" 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  159 

"0  child,  sometime  you  will  understand, 
My  friends  are  few,  and  my  head  is  gray; 

But  this  was  a  story  of  fairy  land. 
And  the  Northern  Pole  is  far  away" 


160     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 


THE  SEACOAST  IN  WINTER 

The  stinging  winds  alternate  freeze  and  burn; 

Chill  gleams  the  twilight  where  the  sun  went 

down, 
Four  threads  of  cloud  across  it,  faint  and  stern, 

Like  scars  across  the  lost  archangel's  frown. 

Cold,  dark,  forbidding  heaves  the  wintry  surge; 

The  frozen  rocks  are  drenched  with  icy  spray ; 
One  lonely  steamer  on  the  horizon's  verge 

Seems  numbed  and  torpid,  crawling  on  its  way. 

A  fierce,  strange  thrill  pervades  all  out-of-doors, 
Grip  of  wild  hands,  half  friendly  and  half  foe ; 

The  iron  night  grows  darker  down  the  shores ; 
Suffering  yet  glad  I  breast  the  winds  that  blow. 

Here  stirs  the  life  that  warmed  the  old  sea-kings 
To  scoucge  the  laggard  blood  in  heart  and  vein, 

The  warrior  joy  that  like  Athena  springs 

Full   armed   and   conquering  from   the   head   of 
Pain. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  161 


SCHOOL-GIRLS 

They  pass  like  flowers  afloat 

On  summer  air, 
Gold  locket  at  the  throat 

And  wind-kissed  hair. 

Still  fresh  the  dew  of  youth 

Around  them  falls; 
Through  visions  robed  like  truth 

The  future  calls. 

Speak  not,  their  dream  revere; 

Yet  mourn  we  may 
For  other  school-girls  here 

Who  dreamed  as  they. 

How  fare  those  now  for  whom 
Life  beckoned  splendid? 

Unlike  their  dream  and  doom, 
Their  vision  ended. 

No  mighty  grief  nor  wrong 

Could  they  disclose; 
Dream  tragedies  are  song, 

But  life's  are  prose. 

Yet  mournful  from  the  past 
Their  words  float  hither: 

"Few  hopes  will  thunder  blast; 
But  many  wither." 


162     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

THE    EVENTLESS   TRAGEDY 

A  DYING  WOMAN  SPEAKS 

Sister,  remain  and  watch  to-night. 

There    are    ghastly   hours    between    twelve    and 

morn; 

And  I  think  of  what  never  has  come  to  light, 
Of  all  in  my  life  that  has  died  unborn, 
Till  the  air  seems  filled  witk  the  whisperings 
Of  the  haunting  ghosts  of  the  unborn  things, 
Now  that  my  evil  and  good  are  done. 

There  was  love,  twofold  in  its  mystic  thrill, 

With  its  soft  inweaving  of  will  in  will, 

And  two  worlds  made  one  through  the  eyes  of  two ; 

But  its  death  was  old  ere  its  life  was  new. 
And  Sloth  and  Mammon  bend  hushed  above 
The  beautiful  face  of  that  still-born  Love, 
Now  that  my  sordid  life  is  done. 

There  were  voices  of  children  in  elflands  green, 
With  a  mother's  ease  like  a  hedge  between ; 
Eyes  she  had  longed  for  and  dreamed  of  seeing, 
Eyes  that  she  never  had  called  to  being. 

And  the  air  seems  filled  with  the  moan  forlorn 
Of  the  clinging  ghosts  of  the  babes  unborn, 
Now  that  my  indolent  life  is  done. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  163 

There  was  joy  of  nature  and  song  and  art, 
That  I  might  have  nursed  in  my  lonely  heart, 
Soft  shoots  that  time  would  have  rendered  firm. 
But  they  shrank  and  withered  in  bud  and  germ. 
And  my  hours  of  boredom  are  coffined  there 
Where  the  thoughts  of  the  mighty  were  mine  to 

share, 
Now  that  my  aimless  life  is  done. 

There  was  need  without  and  my  wealth  within, 
And  the  pleasure  that  makes  us  of  God's  own  kin 
In  a  sympathy  wide  as  the  race  of  man. 
But  its  whispers  died  ere  they  well  began. 
And  the  clerks  of  hell  are  in  Midnight's  tent 
To  audit  the  books  of  the  trust  I  spent, 
Now  that  my  thoughtless  life  is  done. 

There  were  life-giving  dreams  for  that  near  unseen, 
That  died  in  the  march  of  our  dull  routine, 
Things  that  God  never  had  meant  to  die, 
But  we  killed  them  within  me — the  world  and  I — 
And  the  shades  are  in  judgment,  the  doom  defer- 

ring 

Of  a  soul  that  quickened  and  died  in  stirring; 
And  the  clocks  of  midnight  are  tolling  one 
For  a  life  that  was  ended  but  ne'er  begun, 
For  a  life  that  was  wasted,  and  now — is  done. 


164     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

THE  VISIT  TO  THE  OLD  FARM 

Far  lies  the  cramped  and  clanging  street 
Where  now  my  paths  of  life  are  cast ; 
Like  withered  leaves  the  buried  past 

Seems  rustling  here  around  my  feet. 

No  tree  that  buds  on  all  these  lands, 
Nor  tumbling  wall,  nor  sagging  rail, 
Nor  tufted  sod  on  plain  or  swale, 

But  bears  the  touch  of  buried  hands. 

'Tis  haunted  ground,  rock,  hill,  and  spring. 
Five  generations  of  my  dead 
Have  worn  it  with  their  lifelong  tread, 

And  made  the  soil  a  kindred  thing. 

In  dreams  through  changing  visions  rolled 
Forgotten  toil  my  hands  pursue, 
While  wakes  the  spell  my  childhood  knew, 
The  unlonely  loneliness  of  old. 

Again  behind  the  plowman's  share 
The  robin  pecks  with  watchful  eye; 
And  through  the  blue  and  boundless  sky 

The  darting  swallows  wheel  in  air. 

The  daisy  falls,  a  twinkling  spark, 

Where  through  the  grass  the  mower  drives ; 
And  childlike  shrinks  between  the  knives 

The  flower  that  bore  the  meadow  lark. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  165 

Through  yonder  woods  in  winter  hoar, 
When  drearily  moans  the  forest  bleak, 
And  frost  makes  tree  and  timber  creak, 

We  fell  the  hermit  trunks  once  more. 

Loud  rings  the  axe  in  woodlands  lone; 
And  gnarled  oak  and  tapering  ash 
With  warning  crack  and  shattering  crash 

Come  thundering  down  on  bush  and  stone. 

Penurious  life  it  was,  and  hard; 

But  boundless  sweep  of  vale  and  hill 
Enringed  our  day,  and  vast  and  still 

Looked    down   the    night    from    heaven    o'er- 
starred. 

Streams  choose  a  random  course,  but  then 
Flow  ever  there;  our  youth  no  less 
Builds  random  laws  of  happiness 

By  which  we  laugh  or  weep  as  men. 

Still  breathes  the  charm  from  rock  and  fall, 
From  sprouting  corn  and  crumpled  fern, 
Lone,  somber,  sexless,  dumb,  and  stern, 

But  luring  as  the  siren's  call. 

Still  solitude  will  own  her  child, 
And  harsh  old  mother  Nature  hers; 
Unlaid  the  ghost  of  memory  stirs, 

The  dream,  the  summons  of  the  wild. 


166     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

ON    PLACING   A    TOMBSTONE    OVER    MY 
FATHER'S  GRAVE 

The  air  is  hushed,  and  quiet  all  the  scene ; 

In  sunlight  gleam  the  kindred  graves  around; 
As  o'er  these  summer  grasses,  springing  green, 

We  place  this  stone  above  this  lowly  mound. 

Unmarked  he  lived  and  unregarded  died 

Who  slumbers  here;  much  dared,  endured,  and 
willed ; 

Seemed  great  to  friends  and  God  and  none  beside, 
Foundation  deep  where  fates  denied  to  build. 

Yet,  dust  beloved,  couldst  thou  but  know  how  crowd 
Thick  coming  memories  round  thy  noteless  bed, 

Thou  might'st  be  proud  to  know  thy  children  proud 
Of  their  unknown,  unstained,  unconquered  dead. 

Obscure  and  shunned  the  path  'twas  his  to  go, 

Yet  one  at  which  the  boldest  heart  might  quail, 

Through  bitter,  hopeless  years  descending  slow 
Disease's  dark,  Apollyon-haunted  vale. 

Despair  and  anguish  round  on  every  hand, 

And  Reason  rocking  on  her  crumbling  throne, 

Few  sympathizing,  none  to  understand, 

He  fought  his  dreary  fight  unhelped,  alone. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  167 


The  hero's  death  is  all  his  children's  pride. 

Is  not  his  praise  as  great  who  dared  to  live, 
When  every  day  in  lingering  pain  he  died, 

And  death  was  all  that  life  had  left  to  give  ? 

Less  brave  than  Plassey's  conquering  chief  or  more 
Was  he,  who  watched  through  nights  with  anguish 
long, 

To  shun,  Ulysses-like,  that  fatal  shore 

Where  floats  the  opiate  siren's  drowsy  song? 

Failed  every  hope  whence  youths   their  manhood 

draw; 

And  Reason  setting  knew  what  night  ensued; 
Such  foes  as  happier  courage  never  saw 

Walked  through  the  dusk,  and  found  him  unsub 
dued. 

And  still  his  love  for  those  he  left  behind, 

While  yet  one  spark  of  dying  memory  stayed, 

Like  sunset  flames  lit  up  that  ruined  mind, 

Till  darkness   gathering  wrapped  the  whole  in 
shade. 

O  father  flesh  and  brother  spirit,  still 

From  out  thy  dust  thy  voice  ascends  to  me; 

Whene'er  in  life  shall  bend  my  wavering  will 

Here  will  I  kneel  and  draw  in  strength  from  thee. 


168     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 


Thine  was  the  Roman  face  and  Roman  soul 
Of  old  Pompeii's  sentry ;  father,  thou 

Saw'st  clouds  more  dread  than  his  o'er  heaven  roll, 
Stood'st  faithful  at  thy  post,  and  sleepest  now. 

Thou  need'st  no  further  honor,  art  but  one 
Of  many  more,  a  long,  unnoticed  line ; 

Yet  not  in  vain  thy  nameless  task  was  done ; 

The  strength  of  nations  roots  in  graves  like  thine. 

Here  o'er  his  dust  we  raise  this  humble  stone ; 

And  be  the  dying  words  of  Paul  for  him, 
"A  goodly  fight  I  fought,  my  race  I  won, 

My  faith  I  kept."    Away,  the  night  grows  dim. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  169 

THE  FAREWELL  TO  REASON 

Sweet  Comforter  of  other  years, 
I  hear  thy  soft  withdrawing  tread ; 

Thy  voice  is  yet  within  mine  ears, 

But  sounds  like  echoes  from  the  dead. 

Now  child  and  drudge  and  Folly  hoar 
Shall  share  at  least  some  glimpse  of  thee ; 

But,  blest  Interpreter,  no  more 
Shall  thou  and  I  companions  be. 

We  traced  the  dome  that  Darwin  piled, 
With  Herschel  saw  the  planets  roll, 

And  oft  the  evening  hours  beguiled 
With  Mozart's  lyre  and  Plato's  scroll. 

Through  thee  the  voice  of  wife  and  friend 
Came  chiming  soft  and  silver  clear; 

'Twas  thine  those  angel  notes  to  blend 
Which  ruined  mind  shall  never  hear. 

But  now  these  chords  too  finely  spun, — 
This  spirit-harp  within  my  brain, — 

I  feel  them  snapping  one  by  one, 
Amid  the  dread  no  words  explain. 

I  see  behind  the  Flaming  Sword, 
The  vales  of  Eden  trod  no  more ; 

And  bitter,  dark,  and  unexplored 
The  alien  deserts  wait  before. 


170     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 

THE  CORN-HUSKERS 
OR  OLD  NEW  ENGLAND 

In  open  field  in  autumn  weather 
We  sat  and  husked  the  corn  together; 
No  sound  was  heard  but  far  and  low 
The  rumbling  cart  and  cawing  crow. 

The  weather-beaten  shocks  around 
Seemed  hermits  old  with  sun  embrowned, 
Above  the  stubble  gaunt  and  bare 
You  half  might  think  they  knelt  in  prayer. 

We  spoke  of  him  by  Avon's  stream, 
Of  Byron's  fire  and  Shelley's  dream, 
What  Huss  endured  and  Luther  wrought, 
And  Berkeley's  fairy  world  of  thought. 

Still  fast  the  yellow  ears  we  stripped 
Across  the  basket's  edges   slipped, 
The  withered  stalks  our  fingers  stirred 
Kept  rustling  time  to  every  word. 

No  scholars  we ;  but  hearts  that  long, 
Find  much  where  most  they  reason  wrong; 
And  Truth  herself  seemed  speaking  near 
By  withered  husk  and  ripened  ear. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  171 


Now  o'er  the  stubble  gaunt  and  bare 
Plods  on  the  foreign  hireling  there; 
And  thou  and  I  in  autumn  weather 
No  more  shall  husk  the  corn  together. 

With  chilling  blood  and  weary  brow 
I  change  romance  for  knowledge  now; 
And  thou  beneath  the  moldering  ground 
No  longer  tell'st  what  thou  hast  found. 


172     THE  WORLD  THAT  GOD  DESTROYED 


THE  FAMILY  BIBLE 

Grave  Book  of  Ages,  hope  in  hours  of  terror 

For  those  who  now  shake  hands  with  truth  divine, 

Some  say  thy  reign  is  done,  thy  wisdom  error, — 
But  rule  thou  still  my  father's  house  and  mine. 

God  never  meant  between  thy  leaves  to  send  us 
Reply  to  all  our  questions,  urged  in  vain ; 

His  truth,  like  ocean's  flood,  is  too  tremendous 
For  human  cup  to  hold,  or  lip  to  drain. 

But  still  in  pondering  o'er  these  mighty  questions 
Which  none  but  God  can  solve,  through  thee  we 

grow 

More  like  to  God,  who  knows  them;  vague  sugges 
tions 
Enlarge  the  spirit-cup  where  truth  may  flow. 

And  round  thy  solemn  text,  by  buried  fathers 
Made  corner-stone  of  council,  fort,  and  shrine, 

A  crowd  of  thoughts  from  years  forgotten  gathers, 
A  spirit  margin,  glossing  every  line. 

That  margin  is  the  comment  of  the  ages 

On  doubt  and  answer,  faith,  and  good,  and  sin, 

The  truth  that  man  read  into  these  old  pages 
No  less  the  truth  than  that  inscribed  within. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS  173 

Whate'er  this  book  had  first  of  God's  bestowing, 
Direct  or  not  its  message  from  above, 

Round  it,  like  vines  upon  a  trellis  growing, 

Hang  now  our  sweetest  flowers  of  thought  and 
love. 

The  martyr's  blood  its  cherished  page  has  blotted; 
Dumb    worlds    grew    vocal    round    it,    "ay"    or 

"nay" ; 
Dead  lips   have  kissed  it;  tears   the  words  have 

spotted 
Which  say  that  God  shall  wipe  all  tears  away. 

0  star  of  morning,  dim  in  shadows  darkling, 
Faint  hint  of  light  no  mortal  eyes  can  bear, 

Like  Galahad's  Grail  I  see  thy  promise  sparkling 
Above  the  dead  to  bid  me  follow  there. 

From  out  thy  page  the  wakened  visions  flying 
Like  sibyls'  leaves  are  scattered  to  and  fro. 

1  ask,  and  seem  to  hear  a  voice  replying, 

"Man   grows   by   asking,   though  he   ne'er  may 
know." 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

RENEWALS  ONLY—TEL  NO.  642-3405 
This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


UCLA 

INTERLIBRARY  L< 

>AN 

NOV  1  2  196 

ONE  MONTH  AFTSRRH-H 

1 

E£Cx:    • 

' 

LD21A-60m-6,'69 
(J9096slO)476-A-32 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


255792 


